Dauntfest
by Rancidity
Summary: Divergent; Every year in the winter months everyone becomes another year older. The celebration lasts an entire week, a true celebration of life and tradition in Dauntless and in that week each individual lets go of the past year, their past mistakes, shed their former selves and step into a new year, ready to start fresh. WIP. Rated M for dark themes, violence, and romance.
1. The year begins

This story has _some_ reference to the books, with a couple of original characters.

Disclaimer: I do not own ** _Divergent _** or any of the characters, or actors portrayed in the books or movies.

* * *

Her blue eyes regard me with patience, but I see it waver as I pick up the unloaded gun.

It feels strange in my hands, the metal is colder than normal against my slightly hotter skin, it's light when there is no ammo, almost as though I'm holding a cup of coffee, maybe a bit more but I've never been accurate with those kinds of measurements.

Left on the table is the magazine, already loaded with precisely 7 bullets. All I have to do is click it in, flip the safety and pull the slide.

Max _reminds_ me to check the safety, his voice is hollow in my ears and his smile is expectant. I listen and check it again for his sake.

The room is broiling and I've already unzipped my jacket to get cool air on my neck, breathing is a bit difficult, the air is thick and my lungs starve with hardly any relief from inhaling or exhaling. I force myself into a calm and collected posture on the outside so that no one can see my internal struggle.

They say it gets easier with time.

Falen holds the faction-less man down by the shoulder, I know he is faction-less by the way that he is dressed, mixed colors, dirty hair, unshaven. Everything about him looks defeated and worn except his eyes, his expression. They never leave mine because I am the one holding the gun.

I want to ask what his crimes are, but I already know and to ask again just to hear, would be failure. He doesn't fit. He is flawed. A virus. An infection to society.

 _Divergent_

Falen releases him and goes to stand with the other two Leaders, he doesn't need to be held down, his hands are bound behind his back and he's on his knees.

I don't look back to the others because I already know what I'm expected to do, but their reminder that he is _nothing_ , that he's already dead does not make it any easier, neither does the way his brown eyes bore into mine, unblinking and very much _alive_. The fact that he is faction-less crosses my mind again, he's already been excommunicated, sterilized and muted and yet it isn't _enough_ to them. The proper disposal for contaminates is complete eradication.

He will not talk and he will not beg, his tongue was removed. I can tell though by the way he holds his head high, with his back straight that he would not have begged, he is fearless and in a way I wonder if it's because of the fact that they are already dead. The dead couldn't possibly fear death.

I do not know this man but after tonight I will never forget him, his face will be added to my bank, imprinted into my brain, so he can visit me when I am alone.

When I raise the gun to the middle of his forehead pressing the barrel against his skin, with my finger curled around the trigger, his lips move, as he mouths words. They are garbled and sloppy because his lack of a tongue, making him unable to form them properly on his lips.

But the message was conveyed.

 _'I forgive you.'_

The apology was probably all over my expression.

* * *

Tori's entire face frowns, angular features all turning down as she tilts her head at me.

For the past hour today all I've done is spin in the receptions leather chair, mark up the corners of the sign in sheet and stare out the doors at the concrete wall counting the scuff marks. In my defense I'm not getting paid in currency for _any_ of my time here.

I tap the pen in rapid succession against the concrete slab. My eyes always flick back to the watch on my wrist constantly and it almost seems like time is going backwards, or slower. 3 more hours of today's 4 hour shift. I don't particularly look forward to free time but I don't prefer the latter either.

I sigh deeply and lean back in the chair, the squishy flatulent noises don't entertain me anymore, they used to. I'm still privy to some petulant notions.

"It's only been an hour, Gene." Bud responds from somewhere in the shop, having heard my third sigh of the day. His loud steps sound off as he stalks over to me, and because I have nothing else to do for the moment, I watch as Bud, with tattoos all over his hairless cranium, neck and arms goes through putting up the new designs and stencils.

"Could I g-"

"No." Tori sighs loudly cutting me off as she walks back in from the storage room to drop a box in front of me. Her mood is sour from having little sleep last night and forced to go for a morning run with Bud, she had complained that he was a 'psycho fitness nut'.

I don't get to work with any of the machines, but for the next few months I am to clean, watch, instruct people on proper tattoo care, and whatever else they need me to do for the shop. Mainly I'm just the receptionist and they want me to "keep my ass in the chair."

I have to admit, I like _this_ job.

Just as I start pulling out the specialized pads to replace ink cartridges someone finally walks in.

"Amar." Tori greets without looking at him. "Come to hang out?" She asks conversationally, becoming distracted. Her dark sleepy eyes turn away from me as she crosses her arms over her chest, leaning against the desk to face him instead.

"Psshh, with you guys?" Amar jokes, Tori shrugs like she didn't care anyway. I give him head tilt, questioning if he is maybe here to pull me out of work. "Not today kiddo, besides you've got the best job ever." He sounds a tad sarcastic.

I nod my head slowly in agreement, all the others are currently in jobs like entertainment, laundry, food service, janitorial positions, the other mundane tasks that they give to keep us all busy and teach us to some measure of responsibility, patience, maturity and also help us decide what we want to do in our future here in Dauntless.

My future is already pre-determined.

Amar however is 18 now and he's going to be training initiates this year, I know that job suits him, just like how tattooing people suits Tori.

Even though he said he wasn't here to hang out he does. He and Tori talk about how he's going to instruct, what he should wear, how he should talk, if he should get a haircut. He's really excited. It's obvious in the way he can't stop smiling and checking the time.

"Was it transfers you're in charge of or. . ." Tori asks curiously, trailing off.

"Oh uhm, transfers." Amar says before checking his watch for the 3rd time. "I've gotta go, but i'll see you guys tonight." He says quickly and before Amar leaves he tosses me a fizzy water, gives me a playful noogie and offers his parting goodbyes to Bud.

"I bet he has get's more than 4." Tori says to me, with a sly smile. "Majority Candor."

"I'll bet when you guys start paying me." I reply evenly, while wiping the stray drops that get sprayed onto the desk when I twist open the cap of my drink, forgetting to pacify the bubbling fizz inside first. Bud laughs from somewhere else in the room, and Tori sighs trying to fight her smile with an eye roll.

"Get back to work." She says with mocking sternness, swiping my drink before I can take a sip. "We leave in 2 and a half."

When I check my watch again. Sure enough there is only 2 and a half hours left.

* * *

The auditorium becomes dead silent, save for the gasps that came before, silently dying out and I glance up to see a tall boy with slightly large ears, dressed in Abnegation grays makes his way off the stage towards Dauntless side. Max looks displeased.

The Abnegation rep, Marcus stands in the back near the bowls with total bewilderment on his face, while the other important individuals just look mildly surprised, Jeanine Matthews looks mildly happy. It's not till everyone up front starts cheering and yelling that I ask what just happened. I was hardly listening cause I was fiddling with the jacket zipper that got stuck on my shirt fabric. I was distracted.

I heard his name though, _Eaton_.

"Fuck if I know." Kat responds with her usual tone. "But Dauntless just got another transfer, so that makes like. . .4?" I nod my head absently and flick Gabriel in the back of the neck. He leans all the way back with his head in my lap to look up at me with a dull expression, he had taken Tori up on her bet but said less.

When we look back towards the front Tori smiles at us and points at Gabriel to gloat.

"I can't wait till it's our turn to choose." Jackie complains, she has her chin in her hands, elbows on her knees and gazes longingly at the stage. I sigh contently and stretch my arms above my head, and straighten my back.

"At least you only have a _year_ to wait." Lynn snaps, she's been fuming in front of us between Gabriel and Joseph, her sour mood is because Shauna 'Bitched' at her. Lynn should have expected it. They're sisters, constantly bickering.

"By the time this finishes we'll _all_ be choosing. . ." Joseph complains. He throws an elbow back to brush Kat off when she starts making dirt footprints on the back of his shirt. Jackie and Kat laugh but they both agree that they would rather be in school. This is our first and only observation of the choosing ceremony.

"Eric Coulter." Speaks Max, I watch with little interest when a tall Erudite boy with light brown hair stands to make his way to the stage. He walks with arrogance, but most Erudite do. I glance back down towards the front of our section to watch the others continue to greet and slap the new transfer from Abnegation, he's bleeding a lot more than the rest, he cut himself a little too deeply.

"Bet he's gonna choose Erudite." Gabriel mentions over his shoulder, the boy he's talking about is just as lanky as the rest, clearly nonathletic. I decide I shouldn't get in on such a bet but I see the Erudite boy's brow twitch from the corner of my eye like he heard, even over the other hushed conversations in the room.

"I don't have any points." I reply flatly to inform them that I won't be taking part. Gabriel laughs, Kat bets Amity but I don't pay attention when she offers up a different kind of currency, Jackie says she'll go for Candor cause he looks 'like a douche' and she doesn't want to bet the same as everyone else. Joseph grunts, clearly not interested, he's lost enough bets today and Lynn 'gives the Nose the benefit of the doubt' and says he'll choose Dauntless even though she wasn't really included in the bet.

He spills his blood over the lit coals and the crowd goes berserk down in front, while the rest of the room is silent and brooding as Dauntless welcomes him as the 5th transfer, we now have 1 Abnegation, 2 Candor boys, an Amity and an Erudite.

"Ha ha, fuckers." Lynn gloats throwing her arms up in triumph.

"How about we all _not_ turn her in for truancy, and we call it even?" Kat asks the others, Lynn turns in her seat to gape at us and punches me in the shin when everyone else laughs and agrees that they don't owe her anything. I don't see why she had to hit me though. I had no points to give her anyway.

* * *

We all sit in the dimly lit cafeteria, everyone is chattering animatedly, voices and laughter echo off the concrete walls. I spear my peas and pop them into my mouth one by one, crushing them between my teeth and listen to the excited conversations.

When Amar finally files into the room with his initiates all lined up neatly behind him over to the benches, I notice how most of them look pale, shaken but they all wear Dauntless clothing now, the only thing that signifies their freshness is their expressions and posture.

Uriah waves over at his brother enthusiastically and to his extreme embarrassment Ezekiel scowls at him. I pinch the bridge of my nose and cringe when they all glance over in our direction.

The transfers all look around the room with rapt interest and wonder, all except the Abnegation and the Erudite boy who look calculatingly at everything. Both of them have grim expressions, not unusual from individuals of their origin. The Candor's look overly excited and the Amity looks unsure.

None of them start eating and I know its because they're all either shy or intimidated by all the stares, meanwhile the other table already has laughter and joyous conversation, they're Dauntless born.

The leaders walk up on the second floor balcony and the clanking of cups starts, on impulse I also clatter my cup noisily onto the table top and gaze up at them. Reid scans the room and hardly looks over our table before her intense watery-blue eyes stop in the obvious corner of the room.

Max and Falen flank her, this year she's going to do the welcome. "Initiates." She speaks loudly and clearly. Her voice cuts through the soft chattering, silencing all noise. "Stand." She commands, I look back at the table of hesitant transfers. The Dauntless born stand immediately. They know how this goes, this happens every year. The leaders call attention to the initiates, praise them and wish them luck in their upcoming training.

Everyone looks at Reid with admiration. She's well suited to be a leader, she's strong, tall, and always commands attention, she has a presence, stern but inspiring, she's not too old but at the moment she's the youngest of the 3 leaders.

"You have chosen to join the warrior faction, tasked with the defense of this city and all of it's inhabitants. We believe in ordinary acts of bravery and the courage that drives one person to stand up for another." A few people whoop and call. "Respect that." She says. "Do us proud." Her eyes almost look glossy but hard, like she's filled with emotion but her voice doesn't have any.

 _We_ are tasked with the defense of this city and of it's inhabitants. _We_ stand up for all people.

When the speech concludes everyone begins cheering and welcoming the transfers, wishing all initiates luck and starts picking them up to carry around the room, we stay seated and clap, most of us. I take a bite out of a dinner roll and watch as the transfers get tossed into the air.

* * *

I sigh and clasp my cheek, while Reid's harsh voice resound in my head, echoing off my skull but soon enough it fades out like everything else.

Amar gives me an ' _ouch_ ' look before handing me an ice pack, I take it gratefully and press it to my cheek. The slap doesn't hurt and neither do the words, it was only for a brief moment and it's not the first time. I almost always tilt my head up to give her access to my cheek when I see her coming near or towards me.

As far as Dauntless families go, our relationship is hardly unusual to an outside perspective.

We regard each other with stoicism, our conversations lasting never more than 10 words unless it's to receive orders, no gentle touches or reassuring hugs, and no shared meals. We are blood, but we come as faction first. Leader before _all_ else.

The apartment is empty and quiet as usual, the only person who sleeps in here is me even though there are two rooms. Occasionally a group of other delinquents stay over but tonight is a special occasion, choosing day, so I get to be alone.

"This years batch seems really promising, it's gonna be fun as shit!" Amar starts excitedly, drumming the table with his fingers. Last years batch was the same. Although there are some exceptions, it is never fun.

"That's nice." I reply with little interest, I can tell he wants to talk about them, that's why he came. I know he's excited about the training because it's his first year doing it, and I know what they're going to go through. Amar always tells me because I don't 'gossip', the point of a secret is to keep it.

"You know you're really bumming me out." Amar chastises, not happy with my lack of enthusiasm or questioning about his initiates. I sigh deeply and apologetically, I should be more accommodating, especially because he brought me drinks and Amar is my favorite person.

"I thought you weren't supposed to talk about initiation." I reprimand, he rolls his eyes and goes on to say that initiation has hardly started yet and he just want's to talk about the initiates. "So who jumped first?" I ask with fake curiosity, steering the subject in his favor.

I remember the train ride where they all jumped onto the roof, the Stiff was in the wrong cab which was kind of surprising but not more than the amount of transfers this year. 6 in total and only 1 girl. Instead of jumping off with them to watch I was coaxed into inconspicuously sneaking Lynn back in. Max noticed, but he hardly cared, I don't need to know the order in which they jumped.

"Zeke, of course." Amar replies and he shifts in his chair, clearly pleased. It seems like Ezekiel shortened his name, Zeke sounds less mature but it suits him.

"What about the Abnegation transfer?" I ask curiously. They don't usually transfer, especially not to Dauntless.

"He jumped _second_." Amar replies proudly but he leans forward in his chair, with bright eyes and a grin. "We call him _Four_."

"What about the Candor's?" I ask next, keeping the conversation going. He frowns like he wanted to talk about the Abnegation boy, Four.

"Well, you know Candor's." Amar sighs exasperatedly, leaning back with his hands behind his head and kicks his legs up onto my table.

* * *

"How was school?" Tori asks with a mocking tone and matching expression when I get into the shop 3 minutes early, Kree and Marlene disappear down towards the Pit. This is probably going to be a new normal for the next few months, the new routine. These are the times that I get used to.

"Shitty." I reply, but I always use that response whenever someone asks me about it, it's usually finalizing. I take a seat in the leather chair behind the reception desk and the first thing I do is check my watch. Shifts are shorter on school days.

* * *

The same routine goes on for the rest of the week. School, work, recreation and then sleep. It's easy to fall into.

Wednesday is the only exception, no work, no school, just _basic_ training.

We do the usual, warm ups, then bags, then run until our trainer Travis thinks we've gone long enough. He'll then tell us to stop and pair up so we can spar. The older kids with older kids and the younger ones with the younger ones.

"So did you hear about the initiates?" Jackie asks me, while I block one of her punches.

"Yeah, I heard." I reply patiently. Amar already told me about his _favorite_ initiate, the surprising Abnegation being 'one of the best and funnest transfers Dauntless might have seen in years', he's excited about being the one to train him, it's a challenge. He took my comment on favoritism and instead told me that he thinks the Stiff could "kick my ass."

"Alright, switch." Travis barks and we all change partners.

"Do you think Kat might like me?" Joseph asks, while hooking his leg around mine. I retaliate quickly, turning around to elbow him in the gut and he staggers backwards, I know how Joseph fights. He will always attempt to get his opponent on the ground, somewhere I do not ever like to be.

"No, she's taken an interest in the _blonde_ guy. . .I think he's a transfer." I respond evenly but with distaste, conversations like these are in abundance among my small circle, drama, infatuations, feuds. Joseph nods slowly as we stalk each other, both with guards up.

I haven't gotten to meet any of the transfers personally because my schedule, the initiates interactions with the rest of us is minimal throughout the day though so it's not like I'm missing out on much concerning them. I'm not supposed to get _friendly_ with them anyway.

Not to mention rules already strictly forbid any sort of relations between us and the initiates during times of initiation.

"I guess the pretty boy take-over has begun, huh?" Joseph scoffs. I have found myself scrutinizing Four's grim determined expression the past few days, he's definitely growing in popularity especially among the betting pools.

The underdog. And I was told his name was from only having Four fears. _Impressive_.

"I've got dibs on the brunette." Jackie calls over to us.

"Too late." Gabriel yells from further down in a feminine voice. "I called them _all_."

"200 push-up." Travis snaps, speaking over everyone in his raspy voice, and we all drop.

* * *

The weekend finally arrives and with it does the shipments from Amity for summer, it's the same every year. Every month they come once to distribute among the factions. I'm required at these inter-faction crossings, it's part of my experience.

"Aye there Genie!" Says the usual sing-song voice of Amelia one of the truck drivers, her long curly red hair and worn freckled face smiles vibrantly over at me. I take in all the Amity wearing their incredibly red, brown, orange and yellow random clothing before offering her a curt nod. Such disharmonious colors. "I brought you a little somethin'." She tosses me an offering and without looking I catch it reflexively.

It doesn't bother me too much that they all familiarize themselves with me, know me by name, or that they add their own Amity to it, or even that they occasionally bring me gifts, but it does bother me that I know almost all of them by name too.

The worst thing about people is getting attached to them. Sometimes it's inevitable.

"Thanks." I reply, wiping the apple on my jacket before biting into it. I hold it in my mouth by the teeth and get to work immediately, carrying the first few bag loads over to the loading pallets. The apple helps to keep others away from conversing with me, but obviously not well enough.

"Nice weather today." Says Germaine, an Amity man with long brown hair, pulled back into a loose ponytail. He wears a straw hat which he tilts downwards to me in greeting. His slightly tanned leathery skin suggests long hours in the sun. Crows feet in the corners of his deep brown eyes are due to his constant smiling.

"Hnnn." I mumble through the obstruction in my mouth, I remove the apple without taking a bite. "Looks like rain to me." I reply properly, taking a break from the heavy lifting. In actuality there isn't a cloud in the sky, the blue literally stretches over the city with an almost awful smugness as the summer heat sticks to everything in sight. My jacket is unnecessary.

"Well that would be dandy!" Germaine replies with a widening smile. "We could use some of that rain, if you know what I mean." He goes to pat me but takes his hand back before he can make the connection. "Well I'll be!" He gushes, looking past me, his attention span lasting mere seconds. "Graham?"

"Oh fuck this." Says the blonde initiate under his breath before he gets enveloped into a tight embrace by the overly enthusiastic Amity man.

I toss the uneaten apple over my shoulder and reach for another sack, this one looks like grains, they poke out of the rough fabric sack. "You're the Dauntless leaders daughter, right?" Says an intimidatingly loud voice, I proceed to lifting the bag before turning towards the source. "Genie?" The Amity version of my name is only slightly grating from someone who _isn't_ Amity.

Behind me stands Eric the Erudite and between his boots he kicks the apple back and forth, like he wishes to initiate a game. "It's alright for you to just toss your trash all over the place?" He asks with a slightly harsh undertone and raised brow.

I take in his posture, he's still slightly lanky, only taller than me by a few inches. His jaw is beginning to get a little more pronounced, sharper after having trained a little, it's amazing what doing a little physical activities can do for those that don't usually do anything. He's starting to look a little older, still Erudite though even without the glasses.

I reply by tapping the side of my nose with my finger twice, before swiping the apple away from his feet with my own boot, and then crushing it against the ground.

His expression becomes dark and brooding at my casual underhanded gesture to how he's a Nose and hopefully he gets the implication that he should keep his out of other people's business. I'm always highly suspicious of Erudite transfers.

* * *

"See that one over there?" Kat asks, pointing over at Helen, a dainty woman with long blonde hair, a flowing yellow dress and a hideous brown vest. She's an Amity obviously and I already made the connection between her and Graham by the way he stands near her unhappily. There is only one Amity initiate after all. "That's Graham's mother." She adds. I nod slowly and lean back, pressing my palms into the ground.

We sit on the upper level in the Pit, kicking our boots against the concrete, sitting on the edge as we look down on the families filing in for visiting day. An occasion pressed by Reid, and always followed.

"The Candor girl is Mia." Joseph says taking a seat next to me, he holds a bottle of water out in front of me and Kat takes it without a thank you. It turns out that the Candor's parents seemed thrilled, even though she transferred. Normally the parents of female transfers come crying and bawling.

Graham gives us a slight wave and Helen beams up at us, I give her a tight half smile because I actually know the woman, although I can't recognize the babble of smaller children and some older boys all with the same blonde hair, they must be Amity's relatives. The older ones that must have stayed in Amity and younger ones that haven't chosen yet.

Kat waves enthusiastically before getting up to descend into the chaos. I already reminded her several times the rules against relations, they are for our own protection, for her protection.

"Over there is Sean." Joseph continues, he motions over to where another initiate is getting clapped on the back by his proud father dressed in Candor colors. "Next to them is Henry, also Candor." I could've guessed as much.

"Your parents aren't coming?" I ask without any real interest, I continue to scan the crowds taking in the lack of any real faction mingling. There's really only a hint of yellow and then the Candor colors, I see no Abnegation gray or Erudite blue.

"No." Replies Four, I turn my head and glance sideways at him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Abnegation are good at lurking quietly without drawing attention. Their gray is to blend, he cannot blend anymore though, not with all the attention he's brought to himself.

I already knew the answer. I wonder how many people know he's the son of the 'deceased' Evelyn Johnson-Eaton and of Marcus Eaton the man that currently represents Abnegation as their leader. This year may turn out to be a bit different after all.

I admit that I was watching him, I wasn't at first till I saw his harsh expression when he must have realized today was visiting day, by the way he decided hesitantly to come higher up to get away from the families down below when he first entered the Pit.

He leans against the wall in a way that's too tense to seem casual and relaxed. With eyes that look both bright but forcefully uncaring, maybe he would rather be distracted by fear than face the fact that no one came to visit him, or maybe afraid someone _would_ visit.

"Don't _fall_ , Stiff." Says a harsh voice, the Erudite in Dauntless clothing takes a seat at the edge next to me taking the place of Kat, with one knee bent and his arm slung casually over it. His boot heel starts tapping against the concrete, like ours.

Eric offers us no greeting and we don't greet him either. I don't need to ask if his parent's are coming, I wager that no one from Erudite misses him and the way his blue-gray eyes glare down at all the families, he doesn't miss them either.

"What're you looking at?" He asks harshly, tilting his head at me with furrowed brows and a frown. In my defense, I was wondering why he came and sat near us, maybe he's not feeling too happy about not being visited. I also wonder why he's _here_ in Dauntless.

I tap the end of my nose with my pointer finger, twice without answering and look away before I can see his expression change.

* * *

LMK what you think. This story will be a bit dark. It's from the point of view of a villain that has good intentions. A moral obligation to the city and her faction but obviously it's not a good thing. Think about the killer Dexter, only killing villains.

Rated M for future violence and dark themes, and a bit of romance. Slow burning.


	2. It's just a little rain

Hello again.

* * *

"I would like to get a tattoo. . .Please" Says a slightly stern but polite voice, I glance up from my sign in sheet abuse to see Four standing awkwardly between the doorway and the reception desk.

"Designs are on the wall." I reply pointing towards the different concrete spaces decorated with some of the more simpler tattoos and then, some of the more detailed tattoos. He nods his thanks and walks over to them, scrutinizing each one closely and I go back to drawing lines into the edges of the paper.

It takes him a while to decide and after drawing several squares and triangles in the small white spaces I look around to see if maybe he's changed his mind and left, but he stands on the far end of the room looking over at the different symbols for each faction placard under the neon sign that reads faction before blood. It's not always there.

Bud claims they always put it out during initiation because sometimes the transfers like a reminder of where they came from and around this time it's _mainly_ transfers that come in for tattoos. I know of only a hand full of people that actually get a tattoo of their old faction on them, and _always_ in places that no one can see.

His interest in them isn't unusual it always takes time for transfers to let go of their old factions.

He turns towards me with a guilty expression which is evidence of his indecision, he's not the first to come in looking to get a tattoo. The Candor girl came in yesterday wanting to get roses with an over exaggerated amount of thorns, and before them the Amity had come to get a spider. They got some piercings too but Bud kept reminding them that they could get injured.

"I know what I want." He says firmly, but he doesn't sound overly confident, I buzz for Tori. Bud is out today.

He chooses a design that's large and symmetrical for his back.

She wastes no time coming out and handling Four's request and she asks me if I could get the light, so I do. She gets all her tools ready, dons the plastic gloves and the smell of alcohol fills the air. I watch unabashedly as Four removes his shirt and I notice first, the small scars that litter his body.

They are light crescents decorating his lightly tanned skin, he's slightly muscular now, obviously building up over his time spent in Dauntless but I know for a fact that those scars are older than his presence here, but where they came from is no longer viable now.

You won't find anyone in Dauntless without scars.

I also notice he already has a tattoo, the Dauntless symbol, flames on his chest. Amar told me they played a game of Dare, he's trying to stay fun and casual while also attempting to be overbearing. He's having a good time training them.

When he catches me admiring him he doesn't try to hide himself, but his expression becomes slightly harsh and the first one to break eye contact is him. I'm not curious as to why he has those scars and I don't care that he might not have appreciated my staring. I'm not very good with strangers.

The reasons why they transfer to Dauntless are hardly any interest to me, not until they become permanent, not until they fit and conform, not until they're safe. I shrug to myself and go back to filling all the white empty spaces on the sheet with ink, while the boy from Abnegation get's another taste of it.

Around my last hour Amar walks in to give me a fizzy water, and ends up staying to watch Four get his tattoo.

Our conversation is light and normal, he asks me about school and reminds me to smile and how awesome he is but I know he's distracted by his new agenda. Normally he wouldn't accept my staple answer 'Shitty', he's the only one that makes me give him details, but I don't mind.

I sip my drink and occasionally check my watch.

* * *

"You've gotta try the cake man." Zeke exclaims, clamping Four on the shoulder, he doesn't cringe or flinch even though his tattoo must still be tender. He's been coming in every other day to finish it up. So far he has several sharp lines, some of which poke up over the back of his shirt collar.

I've never had an actual conversation with him, sometimes he greets me and I greet him back, only one word greetings though.

"Yeah, sure." He replies and Shauna wastes no time planting a large slice right on top of his hamburger. I'm not entirely positive why the initiates decided to break the norm and sit at different tables today but it's refreshing in a way.

"Kat can I have-" Ash starts but Kat already has the tube of red lipstick, holding it out to her and the red head smiles brightly, they both have green eyes and bright fiery colored hair. Jackie pins my plain black hair up in different places while I absently pick at my plate of food.

"Hey Eric, why don't you sit with us?" Zeke asks as he strides past us. He turns his head and looks at Zeke like he's insane, and then his blue-gray steely orbs take in the rest of us with what looks like pure disgust.

I chew a piece of food and only offer a bored look when our eyes meet for a brief moment. I know he's slowly building a reputation as an anti-social person here not to mention Amar had told me he recently got "his ass handed to him" by Four, but it doesn't surprise me that outgoing Zeke reached out to him.

If people were to describe me they would probably use the word anti-social also but I am social just without much of the talking part, it's not an act, it's not even a mask. I make many attempts at social conventions with others, and I enjoy them for the most part. The very few people I surround myself with are enough.

Jackie continues to work her fingers through my now hazardous mess as though nothing else interests her. Everyone else looks impassive and uncaring, even Shauna as she pretends to be interested in the lipstick Ash is applying to herself without a mirror. Zeke is the minority and looks genuinely inviting.

"I'll pass." Eric admonishes before walking away and no one argues or mentions anything about it, but the Stiff gives his retreating form a look that is hardly Abnegation, and I find myself wishing I could have seen that fight. The one that sent the Nose to the infirmary, i'm not passed my age's petulance.

There wasn't any space for him to join us anyway.

Kat had her leg slung over the only empty spot available, saving it for Graham.

* * *

"Genie." Says the voice I've come to recognize and identify as the Erudite.

"Designs are on the wall." I reply without looking up or offering a greeting, I flip the page in the book I 'borrowed' from school about the history of the faction system. I don't really read the words unless it mentions something about the old world, before the war and during the war but the pictures are what really interests me.

Instead of waiting for him to find something he likes, I buzz for Tori or Bud. I'm a little distracted and don't remember which one is in the shop.

As usual Amar drops by and tosses me a drink but today he doesn't stop by for idle chit chat, he doesn't even stop to question why one of his initiates is here instead of taking their allotted lunch break. I catch the fizzy water out of reflex and wave my other hand absently in thanks when he pinches my cheek.

"The process will take about 30 minutes." Tori says speaking to Eric, while I tap the lid in an attempt to pacify the angry fizz bubbling inside before opening it. "Gene, I'll be right back, Karl is back from patrol." I nod my head and wave my hand at her before sipping my drink noisily and turning the page of the book. I'm guessing Amar is headed there too, all his friends went to work on the wall and they're only back for a week before they go for another 30 days.

The world _was_ a horrible place. I become totally engrossed in the horrific descriptions of radiation poisoning, nuclear detonations, massive destruction and chaos. So much so, that I don't hear Eric talking to me in his arrogant voice.

"What?" I ask, closing the book and turning the chair around slightly. He's laying back with his feet propped up on the metal cart near his chair like he owns the place. The tattoo pad secure around his neck like a brace, which obviously means he's getting his neck inked. It looks more like his neck is broken.

"Either you're deaf or too stupid to have a conversation." He insults. His annoyance is almost palpable, I shrug and turn back around. Erudite are known for their superiority complexes and need for constant debate, nothing surprising.

I pick up my pen and start my usual scribbling, pressing my elbow into the desk and resting my cheek into my palm. The wall has over a thousand scuffs and it's impossible to keep count.

"Did you hear me?" Eric asks, in his second attempt to strike up a conversation or an argument, I had heard him mumble more things about my apparent stupidity but I chose to ignore them. "I guess it doesn't matter, you're probably too simple minded to hold an interesting conversation anyway."

I know that the more he talks and the less I respond the more insulted he will be, I can't help however, the pressure in which I continue to draw. The head of the pen presses into the paper like I could poke through it and draw through the whole stack and possibly carve the desk.

"I heard most Dauntless we're brutes, short tempered and that the women we're bat shit crazy." He continues, like he doesn't really mind the one sided conversation.

"You'll fit right in then." I reply with years of practiced bored-ness. "If you even make it."

"Mad?" Eric asks, I'm not, I've always been fairly good at keeping control, and far be it for me to argue with an Erudite about how Dauntless are. He'll learn what real Dauntless are like. "I'm not worried about failure, that's not an option." His casual cocky declaration is almost too arrogant for my taste.

"I wouldn't move around too much." I advise, with an uncaring tone when I hear him shifting around. "You might end up with crooked lines." I re-open my book and turn the page, hoping that the scrape of paper against paper would add emphasis to how I'm done talking to him.

"Are you serious?" He asks with harsh in-credulousness, I can hear the slight panic in his voice. "Hello?" He snaps when I don't answer him. I turn another page, and then another till I find some pictures.

The city before some of the major restorations is much more interesting than the words. There are no books that only have pictures, to my displeasure, although it could be that I never really look for books.

I listen to the extremely soft hum of the machine working and ignore when the chair gets struck with an inanimate object, hard enough to move me. The loud thump is loud against the leather and then dull thud of the object hitting the floor does pike my curiosity but not as much as checking how much longer till I get off.

I glance at my watch, while he mutters what is most likely his entire vocabulary of curse words. I could probably learn some from him if I actually listened to anything he says, I should probably be more attentive but I always get lazy around the slow parts of the year.

"I wasn't serious." I finally speak after letting him stew long enough and I turn the page to look at the previous Dauntless compound from years ago, the new tattooing form is less painful and much more accurate. We still have the old machines but those are for real Dauntless.

I brows a few more pages, ignoring when the chair gets another, much harder hit from behind. This time it moves the chair a bit more than last.

I'm sure now, that he had thrown his boots. He's an Erudite in Dauntless clothing with a bad temper.

* * *

"Riley." Our Erudite teacher calls on one of the Candor students to answer her question about which faction is in charge of the reconstruction and revitalization of the different still damaged sections in the city. She answers correctly but adds in her own opinion on how any faction could do the job and how the city is still a dump and it's not getting done.

Each faction has it's own purpose, and although some might seem a bit more important than others they all work together as a whole. Each cog turning to make the cities system work perfectly like a well oiled machine. Everyone does what they're supposed to, always. Every individual conforms, even in Dauntless where conformity is a bit more obscured.

When Riley starts babbling that Abnegation might be the most useless faction of the 5. The two girls wearing gray with their solemn expressions sink into their chairs inconspicuously, they do not defend their faction, they're selfless. Our Erudite teacher doesn't stop her from continuing.

Candor's always talk so much.

"Ow!" Riley exclaims rubbing her arm where the book on factions and their importance collided.

When Riley snaps her head around to glare at me she immediately clamps her lips shut. Maybe it's because of the fact that I have another book on my desk, or even the way that I look at her with my cheek rested on my hand, as I slowly close the cover of it. This book is about medical procedures, the pictures we're not easy to look at and there were way too many words in it for my taste.

Riley adverts her gaze as her green eyes become glossy. I don't necessarily take comfort in making other girls cry, but if she feels inclined to pick on the selfless maybe she should. She doesn't though, to her credit.

Our Erudite teacher purses her lips, obviously not pleased with the way things escalated but she hardly did anything to stop me, and definitely didn't stop her. Or correct her. School is pointless.

A familiar Erudite boy with slicked back hair laughs and leans over to retrieve the book off the ground. I'm sure his name is Bradley. "If only books actually worked that way." He says before placing the book on his own desk and peering at the title through his glasses.

I lean back in my chair maintaining eye contact with the elderly Erudite woman as she stares me down behind her own gold rimmed spectacles.

Jackie laughs when the teacher becomes frazzled and half the class looks at us like we're crazy while the rest are obviously entertained. I start to wonder if we walked into the wrong room today, but also mainly why we have to endure inter-faction classes.

Inter-faction classes are the bane of this cities existence. It encourages transferring and in the long run leads to an _increase_ in the number of faction-less.

Each class is made up of only 10 students, 2 from each faction to one teacher. The curriculum is the same in each one. Just the people in them are different. The worst part of all of this is that I have several more months left to endure of this. I check my watch to see how much longer I have to endure of today's class.

"Why can't we be friends? Why can't we be friends?" An Amity student starts singing, while the other drums on his desk. Our teacher pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head.

Jackie very inconspicuously slides her textbook onto the corner of my desk as though she's providing me with ammo, Amity _always_ sing. It's what they do to try and pacify the situation through non-violence.

"Nice throw!" The hippie exclaims even though I missed.

* * *

"I'm betting against Amar." Gabriel announces, while I run my fingers through my now silver-gray hair.

I think that Tori had done it purposely this way. I don't really care, she promised me that she would teach me how to use the machines in recompense. I only have a month and a half before I stop working there though.

So far it seems like Four and Eric are in a battle for who can get the most, they frequent the shop.

Eric never talks anymore and it may be because Tori and Bud never leave him unattended. Not after they came in to him barefoot and the contents of the metal handcart scattered on the floor. I did not stay to help clean or explain.

"You're crazy then and you might as well pay up now." Kat admonishes, she elbows me in the side in an attempt to get me to join in but instead of coming to Amar's defense I tie my hair into a lose bun on top of my head and bite into some eggs. A bet right now is pointless because of the rain and no actual way to tell which initiates will be on Amar's team or the opposing one.

Plus there's several days before the actual game. It could get cancelled. The weather is beginning to get colder too.

"The game will probably be cancelled anyway, it's been raining all week." Jackie exclaims sullenly. She starts taking the piece of unclaimed chocolate cake off my plate and I tilt it in her favor.

They already know I don't like sweets and that Kat always gives me a piece despite that. We're close that way, these people and I. Sometimes I spit in her morning coffee, she knows, but she drinks it anyway. It's these little things that make me attached, the things that stick with me.

"Oh my fucking-" Says a high pitched voice before arms wrap around my neck. "What did you do to your hair?" Asks Lynn with a raucous laugh directly in my ear. I contemplate laying her out over the table but I really don't mind my hair. It's just hair. I find ways to pass the time.

"Getting ready for winter." Uriah answers for me, I wasn't going to answer anyway. "It now matches your cold heart." He adds and I tilt my head back and forth like I can't argue. "I'm just kidding! Oh, but Zeke said the War game is most likely still on!" He screeches excitedly before hopping up onto the bench towering over us all like he's going to make an announcement.

Joseph scowls and nails him in the back of the knees sending Uriah crashing down onto the table top, Jackie and I grab our plates and turn just in time to save our food. "So can we stay at your place tonight?" She asks casually scraping her carrots onto my plate, Lynn plucks one and starts crunching it over my shoulder.

"Can't. Reid." I say and everyone looks at me with bummed expressions. Kat's brows furrow and she looks slightly peeved but I know she's expressing concern.

It's normal though, sometimes Reid comes home and stays the night. No big deal, it's never been a big deal.

I shrug Lynn off me when she pokes the carrot into my cheek and she sits down on the table just as Uriah slides off it rubbing his elbow, complaining about Joseph being too abusive.

"Wanna stay over at my place then?" Jackie asks me passingly, I shake my head 'no' and drag my finger over the icing on her piece of cake and stick it in my mouth, tasting the chocolate thick substance, licking the entire length off. It's disgustingly sweet and attacks my taste buds.

"Not tonight." I reply with a deep sigh, before scraping my tongue against the back of my teeth.

* * *

It did rain, and it continued to rain even during training.

Our breaths come out white and visible in the cold air while we all continue our slow pace through puddles on the ground. My socks are soaked and squish with each step. My insides are trembling from the cold torrent that pelts our bare skin, our only cover is the occasional passing under the train overpasses as we trek around the giant Dauntless compound.

No one complains about it, or the cold or the rain. The first few drops were the worst but now that we are all thoroughly soaked, no one cares. When we circle around for the 3rd time, effectively running for over 2 hours, Travis finally barks out for us to get our 'asses inside'.

My lungs burn but everything else feels cold as ice, every muscle tense from the frigid fall weather. We catch our breaths, huffing and releasing hot air in with puffs, wringing our hair and loose clothing out, it sticks to me like a second skin.

The training room for initiates is much larger than ours and because the initiates have the day off we are to use the transfers facilities. It's not unusual that the transfers get nicer and newer equipment, they need the most training.

At first Travis lets us recover which is hardly possible considering we weren't offered towels or the chance to dry off. We remove our boots and socks and continue wringing water out, creating numerous puddles on the concrete ground.

"Fall in." Travis commands, Kat and Jackie stifle their groans and toss the socks they were slapping each other with onto the ground as we make our way, dripping wet over to the table with knives. "Alternate." He bellows and the younger kids all stand at attention at our sides. "Throw till I say stop." With that he walks off to go smoke a cigarette even though he's not supposed to. He started after his retirement from wall duty after an accident.

It's not good for his health, not to mention he always reeks of smoke.

"The first time throwing since he became our trainer and we're soaking wet, and trembling out of our asses." Gabriel complains under his breath. He's right though, the handle of the knife is slippery in my hand, and my attempt at wiping them off on my clothing doesn't work because my clothes hold more water than anything else.

I'm familiar with knives but I look forward to the days I get to throw them with others. Travis became our trainer last year and he is a slacker.

"Don't you think it's kind of unfair?" Says a voice coming into the room. "Dauntless are trained at such young ages, and then we come in and get scored against them." It's one of the Candor. My first knife sticks into the target exactly where I aimed it despite the grating voice in my ear.

Uriah stands shivering next to me to hand me another. After I throw my first 3, I retrieve them and let him throw.

After about 4 rotations, I'm shivering just as much as Uriah is and the knife slips a few times but they always make it to my mark. I didn't notice the audience of initiates that come closer to observe, because my growing frustration at the spineless way the cold weather is effecting me. Winter is my least favorite time.

"Aww the kiddies are shivering cold." Says Sean, the other transfer.

Uriah ignores them but I see the way his jaw is tense and his dimples disappear. He tries hard not to tremble and brings his arm back to throw another knife but it slips and clatters to the floor in front of the target. When the initiates start laughing, Joseph flips out and tries to start a fight with them.

We start training every Wednesday when we turn 14, some of us before then, _much_ before then.

They come in, leave their entire life behind and are expected to pick up ours, in a very short amount of time. The first stage is the easy part.

Stage 2 will make or break.

I vaguely take in the fact that it's just the Candor transfers, Mia, Henry and Sean.

Kree begins to argue with the girl, Mia, while Lynn and Marlene toss their knives back onto the table as if to join. Gabriel and the others do the same and before long the arguing and near fighting will attract Travis. Really they should know better, it's an unfair fight.

"Let's keep throwing." I advise Uriah with a deep exhausted sigh, we don't know when we'll get another chance.

When he goes to join in the ruckus, I stop him with a hand to the shoulder before retrieving the two knives stuck in the target and the one on the ground. He actually listens to me but complains while continuing to throw even though it's my rotation. Marlene comes over to us and I start handing her knives too and together we silently ignore Travis screaming at both the initiates and our dripping wet comrades.

"Gene, Uriah, Mar." A stern voice calls and only then do I turn around. Amar stands there looking extremely tense with his arms crossed over his chest, he jerks his head for us to move away from the targets. He is in his instructor mode, it suits him.

Amar makes the initiates involved in the altercation start throwing knives, they're impressive, none of the knives end up on the ground. The rest of us watch quietly while Amar and Travis stand there glaring at them, the tension in the air is palpable.

Mia turns around with a smug smile, all three of her knives stuck in the target directly in the middle and as soon as she gives the rest of us a triumphant look, Amar walks over to the table, grabs a water bottle and we watch as he pours it all over the Candor, effectively drenching her. "Alright now throw."

There is little triumph in the way he's just humiliated her.

She blinks at him in bewilderment, her mouth slightly open. When the other transfers can't manage to hold in their chuckles Amar snaps. "You know what? All of you go for a run." He points to the still open overhead door, the rain coming down in heavy torrents. I can hear it pelting the roof. "One lap."

I close my eyes for a brief moment and breathe out some of my pride before starting after the initiates. "Where are you going Gene?" Amar asks harshly, he gives me a questioning look and so do my fellow Dauntless born. Kat and Jackie both give me bored expressions.

"It's just a little rain." I say solemnly while retrieving my wet socks to slide back onto my still slightly cold feet.

My socks squish inside my boots and squeak loudly when I kick them against the ground to get them on. I vaguely take stock of the other squeaks and squishes that start around me. The 3 transfers all wait by the overhead door and Amar has on a wide toothy, approving smile.

* * *

During lunch I close my eyes briefly when the sounds of scraping metal against concrete invade my ears.

Two benches become one, the chattering becomes louder, laughter becomes louder and there are way more voices around.

I focus on the peas I have separated on my plate, pushing them around with my fork and when a piece of cake gets inconspicuously plopped onto my plate by someone other than Kat, I almost get up to leave the room. Instead I calmly tilt my head in thanks with a tight smile at Mia who now sits across from me.

It doesn't bother me so much that there is a new friendly banter going on around me, it doesn't even bother me that of the entire group of initiates this year almost all of them sit at our table. What bothers me is this attention, from them and for them.

Mia has brown eyes and short wavy brown hair, Henry has short light brown hair and hazel eyes, Sean has black hair and dark brown eyes, Graham has blonde hair and pale green eyes.

I am trying to be as patient as I can with these new voices because I recognize their bravery in choosing Dauntless and leaving behind everything they knew, and everything they were.

When they start talking about their old factions, I sit and feign interest even though I really should leave.

Instead I listen. Cows only give milk when they're pregnant, you can still lie under a lie detector test, Candor can't have pets, and Amity have too many pets. Everyone else seems engrossed and interested and they laugh and joke about it. This may be too much familiarity.

My head is throbbing and my cheeks feel a little bit hot, food tastes like cardboard but food always tastes bland, I dislike sweets because they have the strongest effect.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and lean forward onto my elbows, pressing my fingers into my eyes till I see spots after Sean regales us with a tale of Candor's merciless mart, when I open them again the chocolate chunk is gone and I notice that Gabriel has it impaled on his fork. I don't need to thank him, as it was probably my fault it ended up on my plate to begin with.

Just like it's probably my fault the population at our table got bigger.

* * *

"Hey, what're you doing here?" Tori asks glancing up from her customer, it's Eric and it looks like he's just settled into the chair and I notice the way Tori wraps the adhesive pad around his upper arm. Maybe someone should tell him that the number of tattoos you get does not accurately measure your Dauntlessness.

Neither does getting a piercing but it seems like he's set on proving himself through those. My suspicions of him attempting to blend rather than assimilate are growing.

I always have a deeply rooted suspicion of Erudite transfers.

"Maybe she's here to get her ridiculous hair fixed." Eric answers for me. "Or maybe shave it all off." Tori tries not to laugh but beside herself she smiles and coughs a few times into her hand because she's the one that did my hair.

I decide then, that I'm going to keep it the way it is. I tap the side of my nose with my finger twice at Eric, his smug smile becomes a dark scowl almost baring his teeth and that's when Tori warns him that soon I'll be tattooing people and I hope he recognizes the threat.

I'm not used to my own petulance but it makes me feel better to act it out with small gestures, my age is out of my control.

At first I wanted to come here and count the scuff marks on the wall but now I feel I really just want to rest, so instead of staying, I make my way to the empty apartment and my warm bed even though it's the middle of the day.

* * *

Please and Thanks for any reviews and all that, I really appreciate it.

The people I had in mind for the characters I'd say. . .You could use your imagination but to me I see Gene/Genesis as. . .The girl in the picture or maybe Cara Delevingne.

Amar - Since no one has really seen him for real - Avan Jogia. . .Maybe, Idk. .

Kat - Bella Thorne?

Gabriel - Colton Haynes.

Joseph - John Bregar?

Graham - Lucas Till?

The question marks are just cause I'd like to let you all imagine your own person for it. . .If you like.

LMK who you think fits. . .Or not. Thanks for reading.


	3. Traitor

Thanks for reading.

The main character development is. . .She's basically one dimensional, strong beliefs and loyalty to faction. A purist mindset.

* * *

"Wake up! Wake up!" Commands Gabriel's deep voice, he's bouncing up and down on me straddling the cocoon of sheets wrapped tightly around my sleepy form. I could go right back to sleep but instead my eyes snap open and I stare at the bedside table where I left my watch.

It's almost 6:30 P.M.

"Get off." I say with a thick voice, my mouth feels cottony and I can use a drink. I'm guessing this is him coming over to get me to come eat dinner. He's been known to pick locks so I already know how he got into my apartment and how he got into my room. This is not the first time but usually I catch him.

"If you're sick, good." He replies bouncing on me a few more times before rolling off, he sits propped against my headboard with his hands behind his head. "You're the one who had to get all 'It's just a little rain'." He adds with a feminine voice to mock this morning. "Everyone wants to play with you now." His boot starts pushing me off my side and I'm only vaguely peeved that he's wearing his boots on my bed. "You're more fun when you're crabby."

"I'll hit you." I reply lightly, swallowing a bit of saliva build up, as I roll, his boot continuing to push me, but I'm wrapped so tightly that I don't catch myself and instead I land with a thump on the concrete floor staring at the ceiling. "I'm going to hit you." I amend my threat weakly, wiggling out of my cocoon.

"What was that?" Gabriel asks and he peers down at me from the bed, with a toothy grin and bright brown eyes. "It's just a little rain?"

* * *

"Oh no! My poor Gene." Kat says mockingly sitting on the arm of the L shaped couch, occasionally she'll squeeze my burning cheeks between her frigid hands. I sit sideways with one leg pulled up and my head lain over the backrest. I am far from poor, in fact I feel much deadlier.

Something about being physically sick and out of control of that one particular weakness makes me a bit grouchy. Especially when my 'friends' casually toss out the 'It's just a little rain.' phrase that I am now infamous for.

It's extremely dim in the lounge tonight and at first I thought we we're going to dinner but Gabriel coaxed me all the way here despite my reservations about coming, we don't hang out here much. The lounge is always bustling with people.

Around the couch and serving table sit the usual then theres, an Amity, 3 Candor's, and a Stiff. It almost seems like the punch line to a horrible joke, like the kind Uriah always tells.

My skin feels too hot but my insides feel too cold. "At least you have some color to your cheeks." Zeke says, putting an arm over my shoulders to shake me up right.

Kat and Jackie wear dark dresses and they giggle girlishly with Mia and Shauna while the rest of them sit around sipping alcohol. In stark comparison I wear my usual jacket, tank and pants with boots, with my jacket zipped all the way up to my chin. My hair is pulled into a tight ponytail because I know it makes me look much more severe, to make up for my sluggishness.

I'm not positive what the special occasion is for everyone to be drinking and chilling together but I can think of a million things I'd rather be doing. One of them is eating, the other is sleeping and when one of the Candor's starts asking me what my favorite things are I find myself even preferring the company of an inanimate object over people.

"Black." I reply flatly, when Sean asks what my favorite color is. Everyone cracks up and he looks embarrassed for asking, it's really obvious.

"That's not completely true." Jackie jokes lightly shaking her head at me, I raise my brow at her. "She likes light black, dark black, pitch black, pastel black and faded black." The laughter is loud an raucous and I have to admit, I appreciate her joke. The tug at the corner of my lips is evidence but my mouth feels dry and smiling takes work, all of this takes enough effort even though a lot of it is genuine.

It's clear that this may be unavoidable if they plan to always be around my usual circle. Shauna and Four seem to be getting a long too. He seems to be adjusting.

Joining is about more than getting through initiation, for a lot of Dauntless, they meet their best friends, girlfriends, boyfriends, enemies, whatever during it. A lot of the time though transfers don't make it through to keep them, and no one talks about the ones that fail.

I notice Kat and Graham's occasional inconspicuous arm brushes or accidental hand bumps. I notice the way the Candor's, Sean, Henry and Mia always seem to stick together like they are inseparable and how Four seems to have a new found camaraderie with Zeke and Shauna.

"Let's play Dare!" Ash gushes, she sits straight up like she's been electrocuted, her eyes are bright like it's the best idea she's ever had. Shauna and Zeke exchange sly glances and agree to play. I pinch the bridge of my nose, pressing my fingers into my eyes.

They explain the game to the transfers. You drink, dare someone, they do the dare, they drink and dare someone else. You lose when you do not complete the dare.

I shake my head 'no' when they ask me and Kree starts begging. Jackie mentions that I could use a drink and I could honestly, I definitely could use a drink, but I would rather go without the dares seeing as how there are players that tend to go overboard and my previous games left some not so desirable long term effects.

"Come on Gene, we'll set some boundaries." Gabriel goads pleadingly. "Like only within Dauntless walls or-"

"No." I reply firmly cutting him off, they frown at me and give me pouting faces. I already know that they want to play because they'd like to take advantage of the inexperienced but excited faces sitting around waiting impatiently to prove themselves. I'm hardly in the mood for the kind of dares they have in mind if they plan to be stuck _within_ Dauntless.

"How are any of us going to get kisses from you if not from a game of Dare?" Joseph jokes with a mocking sulky tone and everyone starts cracking up, the ones who know of my kissing history laugh loudly. "The number one rule is not to be a pansy cake." He says to the transfers suggestively.

I shrug my dismissal of the topic, before resting my head on my palm. I've never had a kiss that meant anything other than the touching of mouths, it is more physical contact than I ever permit myself on normal occasion. I am always the first to lose in a game of Dare.

"Really?" Asks Henry one of the Candor boys with a bewildered tone like he may think that's the way we do things around here. He should not have asked. Everyone else knows it's a joke. Everyone starts laughing again and slapping him on the back, they give him the first drink, to start off the game.

Henry takes a deep gulp, cringes from the taste before wiping his mouth and stares me right in the eyes with a slight blush creeping over his cheeks, my lightened mood becomes sour.

* * *

"Why are you sitting here?" He asks with a palpable annoyance, his grayish-blue eyes narrow slightly when I make no attempt to get out of the bench. Instead of answering him, I check my watch.

It's almost 8 P.M.

"Are you drunk?" He asks and his tone sounds a little less harsh and a little more curious, almost amused. Eric was sitting alone at a table in the cafeteria with a plate of untouched food and a cup of coffee. My own plate is untouched but I decided I didn't want to end up puking tonight, it is also a little late for food.

"No." I reply evenly, my face does feel a bit flushed but it must be from the slight fever my body is suffering from. I do feel sluggish and a bit over heated, but I leave my jacket zipped all the way up, because the cold air on my exposed skin is enough.

"Are you going to say anything else?" He asks flatly, before taking a sip of his coffee. He almost looks as though he's getting ready to take off, preparing to get out of the bench. I push some of the carrot's around on my plate with my fork deliberating if I need to voice it or show it.

"No." I reply honestly, he settles like he's satisfied with my answer, he may also be not in the mood for conversation.

But after a while of silence, the only other noise being the very scarce ambient sounds of late night cafeteria goers around us, he opens his mouth again.

"Did you just want company?" He asks looking at me with furrowed brows, his mouth is set in a firm line as he looks me over calculatingly.

"No." I admit and he cracks into a laugh, building into a genuine cackle, his eyes light up and I feel as though he may have gotten my implication.

That I probably came to sit here because sitting with him is like being alone without actually being alone, or more alone if possible. He does seem to be a pretty good deterrent for people. But I also have some other suspicions of him.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and calms down before pushing himself up off the bench to slide out and leave.

I rest my cheek on my hand and sigh, looking at the coffee cup and his plate that he left, thinking about how it'll look as though it was me that left trash lying around in Dauntless, I don't. I have no intention of throwing his garbage out but seeing as his coffee looks to be just as neglected as his food I decide to take a sip for the caffeine.

It's room temperature and positively bitter, my tongue becomes barbed after being drenched in the acrid liquid and it's not easy to swallow as my throat feels tight. He takes his coffee black, as do most of us.

I vaguely wonder, passingly, what kind of dares the others are enduring.

When Eric returns, to my mild surprise. He wears a smirk and slides back into the bench, and when he notices I have his coffee, his smirk becomes a toothy grin, exposing rows of flashy straight white teeth as he slides a new plate over to me with a piece of chocolate cake perched imposingly on it.

"I don't like cake." I tell him with a bored tone, my expression is usually perfect at matching and I narrow my eyes, gazing at him over the cup, taking another sip before putting it down beside the plate. I do not accept the baked fare, even if it's his way of reciprocating me for making him laugh.

"I know." Eric replies simply, and he leans forward curling his fingers around the coffee. I don't stop him.

I watch till he brings it closer to his lips, when it is just barely a breath away, before saying. "I'm sick."

When he takes a gulp and lowers the cup, he licks his lips dragging his tongue over a new piercing still slightly red and irritated around it and I find that I dislike it intensely, I dislike this person intensely. His strange gesture seems oddly predatory, studious, taunting.

"I know." He says with a casual shrug and a bored tone.

We don't speak to each other again and when we leave the cafeteria through separate doors, our plates lay abandoned. Food untouched, cup empty.

But the cake has an imprint where I dragged my finger through the icing.

* * *

"Wake up." Demands a stern loud voice, my sheets get ripped from off of me, I've been awake for hours and I listened to the sound of his footsteps softly sneak into my room. I sit up slowly to stare at Amar who smirks and jumps up onto my bed with his boots on and starts bouncing up and down all over the place. "If you're sick, go to the infirmary."

I swipe at his legs a little too slow, and he jumps to dodge me. "When have I ever gone to the infirmary?" I ask while rubbing my tired eyes till I'm certain they wont melt out of my head, my ears feel a little hollow, my hair slightly damp.

He starts listing off all the injuries I've sustained in the past but all of them we're fairly serious and he makes my point for me, I've never gone over small things like sickness or fevers, neither has he, no one does. the infirmary is rarely frequented. "Fine, fine. Let's go eat then!"

"No." I reply falling flat on my back before turning over to press my cheek into my pillow but I reach over to my bedside table to retrieve my watch.

In the dim light of my cavern the hands read 4:21 A.M.

"Get the fuck up!" Amar complains loudly but playfully nudging me with his boot. "Get up, get up, get up, Gene."

* * *

The cafeteria is chilly, more so than usual and I can feel a slight trembling under my skin, beneath the fabric of my jacket like I don't have enough layers, it probably doesn't help that my morning shower was freezing. I shove my hands into my pockets to stay warm as I wait patiently for a coffee with Amar.

We catch up on some of the time lost cause he's been busy, he asks me about school and tells me about initiation and it turns out that all his initiates are doing well, of course Amar would get them all fit, help them earn a good score.

He takes the cup being handed to me before I can and one of his own to lead me over to his empty table, I slide in across from him. My fingers curl around the warm paper spreading the heat through my body and before I take the first sip to make my insides warm as well, Max arrives and taps the table to get our attention even though I watched him walk over to us.

His expression is grave but also solemn, as he clasps his hands in front of him.

Amar looks up at him with a horrified expression his eyes become wide, brows raised up under his choppy black hair and his mouth slightly parted.

My own expression stays passive, impartial and because the cup was so close to my lips already I continue and take a gulp.

The bitter liquid is scorching hot in my mouth and burns through everything before going down my throat thickly. I drag my now barbed tongue across the back of my teeth to scrape it like sandpaper and take another gulp before standing.

* * *

The skin is white, almost transparent other than the faint lines of blue veins under the surface, the stark contrast of the white sheet covering her from the chest down is so severe that it makes my eyes sting trying to discern which is whiter.

Despite myself, I lightly trail a finger down her platinum blonde hair line, to her ear. Her skin is cold but with my elevated temperature everything feels cold to me.

I don't need to ask how she died, nether does Amar. It's apparent by the gaping hole in the side of her temple and a matching one on her shoulder, there is no blood. Everything is sterile and crisp, having already been cleaned and prepared for cremation.

If you didn't know better, you would think she we're sleeping, her eyes are closed but her eyelids are a light purple-ish blue, her lips are the same color and in a way it looks much lovelier than black but so much _lonelier_.

Even in sleep she never looked this peaceful, I guess in a way that says something about her.

"She was returning from Amity with the distribution itinerary for winter." Max explains when Amar asks what happened, Falen finishes telling about how their convoy was attacked by faction-less on their way back. It's not unusual, during the colder months faction-less tend to get a little out of control.

Amar doesn't suspect anything because of how common it is, he just expresses his condolences and tightens his grip on my hand.

I however already know that the itinerary is delivered by Amity at the time of the last distribution before seasonal change, I'm always present when they do.

What Max or Falen don't say aloud is that Reid is a traitor to Dauntless. Smuggling her targets out of the wall or into Faction-less territory, for some time now.

Along with hers there are 3 other bodies, all of which are covered completely with sheets. Falen suffers from a gunshot wound to the thigh but still manages to hobble around to cover Reid's body with the sheet, our other leader is unharmed because he remained in Dauntless.

Max's hand is heavy on my shoulder and he squeezes once before asking. "Are you alright Gene?" In his voice is emotion, the concern he expresses is genuine in his expression, soft brown eyes, slight frown. Amar wears the same expression but he looks much more concerned for me. Amar is much more genuine.

"Yeah." I reply honestly, my slight tone is for Amar and he gives my a hand another squeeze. Max already knows that I am fine.

Dauntless has just lost one of it's leaders, and we are down to 3.

When the bodies are put into the pyre, the flames roar up, accepting them with flaming hands that wrap around like a destructive embrace. It reminds me of the Dauntless coals that accept blood on choosing day, today they've been chosen back as the fires of Dauntless accept their bodies even though I know they don't belong.

It's far too early in the morning for alcohol.

* * *

Everyone lifts their glasses and chants the names of the recently departed. I drink deeply to each name except one. Even though the chants and roars are loudest when Max calls it out over the gathering in the Pit.

It's probably the only way that I'll ever really disrespect her.

Even the transfers all drink and chant along but only after having been explained the way we mourn. It could be best described by chasing the grief into the oblivion of alcohol and leaving it there or sending their souls off with relentless noise.

Either way they leave us and we let them _go_.

My body is still hot and cold but the throbbing in my head is dulled by a lulling buzz only offered by the dark liquid in the cup I hold in my hand. Kat has her arm wrapped tightly around my waist and occasionally someone will join and bury their face into my hair to give me a hug or some measure of unneeded sympathy. I return their embraces in case they need it more.

It's only early in the afternoon and everyone else is thoroughly drunk, no one comments on my ability to walk a straight line without stumbling, or being able to form coherent conversations without slurring any of my words and no one notices when I don't continue to drink along with them.

A few times I have to steer several drunken idiots away from the chasm, their bravery heightened as they get more and more intoxicated. There are usually several people that jump when there's a loss of a leader, something about following them into the unknown or charging into battle with them one last time.

"Thinking about jumping?" Asks a curious voice, I turn away from the chasm's opening to shrug at Eric while leaning against the railings. He stands straight with a cup of his own several feet away with his head tilted questioningly. The first thing I notice is that his lip ring is gone and his hair is now buzz cut along the sides with only a slightly longer portion on top.

He looks and celebrates like a Dauntless, it only slightly irks me.

"Or do you need another drink to give you the courage?" He asks when I don't voice my answer, he even offers me his cup. I recognize his challenge and step over to the opening, his brows raise and his lips turn up into a sneer, when I pretend to sway over the side.

* * *

My bed is crowded, and my head is throbbing. It's way too hot with all the body heat around me.

I throw Kat's arm and leg off me to sit up and crawl over Jackie to slide my legs off the duvet, only to step on another sleeping form right at the foot of the bed.

Whoever it is just grunts and slaps my foot away, mumbling incoherent words.

The mixture of snores in the darkness make it feel like just another sleepover after a long day, and in a way it is.

Days like this are in abundance in our lives.

I feel my way over to the door of my bedroom using the wall, the cement under my palms is sturdy, firm, it does not move when I press my weight into it. I'm tempted to rest my burning forehead against it because it's so cold and inviting.

My skin gets dusted with goosebumps when the frigid air outside my door rushes around my bare legs and arms, even without windows it feels like the outside air manages to get in, like a ghost through the concrete walls.

The main room is dim, not as difficult to navigate and I vaguely notice the sleeping forms on the couch and decide passingly not to go back into the dark to retrieve my watch, instead I make my way silently, tip-toeing to the bathroom.

I splash cold water on my face and pat it down with the towel hung near the light switch.

It's a school night and I should probably get some sleep.

With that thought in mind and only that thought, I exit the bathroom and make my way to the locked door passed the couch with sleeping people on and around it. I silently unlock it with a key located in the planter right next to it and crawl under the cold sheets, a shiver runs up my spine, spreading through every corner of my body when I breathe in the frigid air, that feels sharp and fresh in my lungs, almost painfully so.

Soon enough I get warm and comfortable, and I fall into a dream-filled sleep.

They visit me there, in these dreams, the ones that don't belong anywhere else, find rest inside my head.

* * *

"Is it just me or do these eggs taste like shit?" Lynn asks stabbing into the yellow mound on her plate. The only answer she gets is a groan from a hung over Joseph that sits across from her as he rejects his own plate of food, before slamming his forehead into the table.

I take a bite out of the muffin I have and read over the schedule manifest Max gave me, tomorrow is the usual distribution day for Amity and afterwards he want's me to attend the inter-faction conference. I don't feel particularly inclined to go because I know the other faction leaders and representatives want to express their condolences.

Max also expressed that he didn't want to have to sit through it alone, because 'well, Falen is injured and doesn't want to go', in some ways they are more petulant than I am, but more than twice my age. He also said something about 'long boring meetings with boring people', I'm not interested either, but the agenda is slightly a bit more important than 'tea time' with other factions.

"War game today!" Screeches Uriah right into my ear, a few people start cheering but they all sound pretty sleepy and unenthusiastic, most of them are hung-over like Joseph, they drink more than they train, they drink almost as much as they play.

"Oh, I wouldn't drink that if I were you." I say casually looking up briefly at a tired, droopy eyed Kat who holds her cup of coffee to her lips, she snorts and takes a swig.

I warned her.

* * *

"Oh come on Amar." Tori complains, she leans over the reception desk on her elbows with an annoyed expression on her face, bouncing impatiently. "I have points on this game, a lot of them, right Gene?" I nod absently without joining in.

"That's why I can't tell you who I'm going to chose for my team." Amar reprimands her with his hands on his hips, it would be cheating. "Anyway, you alright Gene?" He asks me for the 3rd time since entering the shop.

Amar is one of the only ones that I know who hold onto thing's, when his grandparent's died he didn't eat for a week but he drank a lot. I don't hold onto anything, and I find it easier without being intoxicated.

"Yeah I'm fine." I answer patiently while securing the cuff on Eric's arm, he watches me with a severe stare to make sure I'm not going to give him a tattoo of something he doesn't like. I made sure to go slowly so that he could see that I have no intention of sabotaging him _yet_ , it's my first time using the machines and I intend to do it right.

"Don't forget to readjust the pressure dial, the number for forearm is 7, like calf." Tori reminds me without turning around, I already started the machine and the hum of needles starts up. I can feel my petulance rising to the surface, I know it's my age.

"Oh, I almost forgot." I reply distractedly, with wide eyes and my mouth slightly open like I just made a huge mistake, the expression is foreign on my face, I shut the machine off immediately and mumble the word ' _shit_ ' under my breath, loud enough for him to hear.

Eric's expression become utterly bewildered his mouth drops open and he sits up, his blue-gray eyes wide, brows furrowed.

"Just kidding." I amend, satisfied with his reaction. I start the machine once more and he drops his head back against the leather chair letting out a deep sigh of relief, before pinching the bridge of his nose, his jaw is tense and I can tell he's gritting his teeth, he clenches his fists like he wants to hit something. Destroy something.

"Don't shake him up too much Gene." Amar says snappily but he tosses me a fizzy water and I catch it reflexively while raising my brow at him and Tori glances back at me with a slight devious smile.

Eric takes the soda when I offer it to him but instead of opening it to drink, he shakes it violently and tosses it into my lap.

* * *

Thanks for reading and for continuing to read.


	4. Corruption

Kat, Joseph, Uriah, Lynn, Marleen, Gabriel and Jackie all sit on the edge of the roof on the stairwell while the other Dauntless check the zip-line mechanism with Bud, there are about a dozen other Dauntless here with the main focus of making sure the cold weather didn't mess with anything.

Bud tells someone to check the harness and another person to check the actual line, while he attempts to shake the large tower it is connected to. It's sturdy and doesn't budge.

We only ever use this once or twice a year. I pull the large yellow pulley when Bud gives me a thumbs up and the generator roars to life, shuddering and sputtering. The twinkling lights all around the rooftop start blinking on and people start cheering excitedly, it's still light out so we don't need them on but they needed to test everything to make sure it's in working order, a malfunction could prove _fatal_. It has happened before.

It's colder outside in the fall air, it's not raining today but the sky is overcast like it might and I inhale the crisp, sharp air, filling my lungs with the freshness of being outside and up so high.

I shove my hands into my pockets to warm my fingers, ignoring my gloves and I watch as Bud pulls the lever on the side of the tower down, sending electricity through the powered zip-line, it hums and a loud echo reverberates through the air, he yells over for someone to ride it and Uriah is the first one to scream that he wants to do it.

The whole time I help him into the sling harness with Klyde, checking the straps and the pulley, he's smiling, his eyes are wide and bright, full of excitement and his dimpled cheeks are slightly red from being bitten at by the cold. "Come-on, come-on!" He chants impatiently.

"Don't shit your pants." Lynn bellows, everyone laughs, the air is filled with casual laughter and friendly conversations.

"Too late!" Uriah jokes back and the laughter becomes louder, he gives me a devious smirk and I pinch his cold cheek between my equally cold fingers.

When he finally gets sent down he yells until we can't hear him anymore, it takes moments to get all the way to the end, and I know that's where most of the people are, drinking and sitting around waiting for night to fall.

The war game starts as soon as the sun is in the middle of the Ferris wheel. Bud calls over his departure saying he's going to go drinking with the older people and everyone yells goodbye while we watch with growing anticipation as the sun crawls lower and lower.

The harness comes back up after Gregory presses the recall button, and in 45 minutes Uriah comes bursting through the door onto the roof of the Hancock building breathless and laughing, we are up 100 stories high. No one is allowed to drink up here, for obvious reasons.

The view of the city from up here is spectacular in one direction is an expanse of tall shimmering buildings and over the other you can see the wall and beyond it is just all marsh, barren, ugly and devoid of all life, stretching on for who knows how far. It's safe, in the walls, mostly.

I'd like to make it safer.

"Gene!" Joseph calls over to me. "Get your ass up here!" I breathe out a thick fog of white before climbing up to join them and they tell me about their game of Dare cause they 'forgot to before', while I kick my heels against the brick of the building and watch as the bright colors in the sky fade into nighttime.

I already noticed the butterfly tattoo on his neck and a matching one on Gabriel's, and that Jackie no longer has any piercings. They tell me that by the end of the week Kat has to have a new hair color and when they tell me about the transfers I pinch the bridge of my nose and try not to frown.

* * *

The wind started picking up and drops of rain starts to fall in soft drizzles, to everyone elses horrid disappointment everything starts to get shut down by the older Dauntless and the groans of annoyance at the weather starts.

I can already imagine how disappointed they'll all be when they can't ride the zip-line after the game. I was vaguely wondering if Four would become Three tonight.

Sure enough they shut the zip-line down but we all stay up on the roof, unwilling to climb the flights of stairs to get down, although I'm very close to getting up to leave, it's extremely cold. Weather is an unbeatable opponent, my body reacts pitifully against it.

I have my jacket zipped all the way up and my hair is down to keep my ears warm but the cold air bites my nose and cheeks, I can barely feel my features. I wasn't the only one practical enough to bring gloves but I give one to Jackie because she complains that she can't feel her fingers.

The door slams open beneath us and we all lean forward as the 12 initiates come rushing out lead by a triumphant Zeke, he has his hands up like he's the sole victor of the whole game. "Behold! The victors!" Zeke bellows, jumping on to a rotating vent he drums his chest with his fists.

Amar's team won but unsurprisingly he had chosen Four, Zeke, Eric, Mia, Henry and Graham. Majority transfers but he chose the best ones of course. They stand there around Zeke soaking up the praise, even Four looks a bit big headed and smug.

"You guys climbed up here for nothing!" Gabriel yells through his cupped hands to amplify the sound, everyone starts laughing raucously as the initiates complain. Most of them.

* * *

When the Amity rusted trucks start arriving the first thing I notice is how much security they have, it's plausible. Winter is approaching so Dauntless leaders up the amount of guards as escorts. Safety from Faction-less, it is an actual precaution.

Max greets the first driver but I'm too far to hear their exchange, and when he notices me he smiles approvingly, I'm up bright and early, here before the tucks. I usually come after the trucks have all parked and the initiates and other volunteers have arrived to minimize the amount of work I have to do.

"Gene." He greets with a head tilt. "Looking forward to the conference today?" He asks conversationally, he clasps his hands in front of him like usual to stand with importance, he exudes authority.

"Of course not." I reply evenly, adjusting my glove so that it's easier to see the face of my watch, and I pull my sleeve back down.

Max chuckles before handing me a folded white piece of paper, that I take and slide into my jacket pocket without checking. "It won't be too bad." He says before breezing past me to head indoors. It's the same every year.

We never look forward to it and this time I find myself slightly a little less so than last year.

* * *

"It's getting mighty cold." Germane exclaims and even though he sounds disappointed he smiles brightly, his breath comes out in white huffs as he continues to exert himself carrying the heavy loads, he's already fairly old.

"No shit." Eric says sarcastically, throwing another sack over his shoulder and stalking away without acknowledging me. I had not acknowledged him either but he's around too much, he's too observant. He's _Erudite_.

"It's only going to get colder." I respond while removing my gloves, I rub my hands together to retain warmth with friction while Germane continues to thank me over and over and over. "Don't forget your gloves next time." I admonish sternly before stalking away with my own heavy sack of potatoes.

* * *

I cup my cold, numb hands together and blow hot air into them before accepting the winter itinerary from the elderly Amity woman, Elenor. The sounds of their rusted old truck doors slamming and engines roaring to life around me, while they prepare to move onto their next destination. Candor.

"Ready to go?" Max asks me, approaching from the side.

I nod my head absently while scanning over the schedule. "Do you think I could negotiate the list?" I ask without looking up to him, I can tell that he's frowning. I fold the calendar up and hand it to him, it hasn't changed much, just in anticipation for harsher weather and winter festivities.

"Probably, it would be best not to though, you know how Falen gets." Max sighs, he turns around to start heading towards the large black vehicle that's to take us to the Hub.

I shove my hands into my pockets to stay warm as I start after him. Falen always get's ornery when we trade.

When I hear the sounds of gravel being disrupted behind me I turn sharply to see a tall Amity boy reaching for me like he was going to tap my shoulder. His hand stops midway and he becomes startled and withdraws. He looks a bit familiar. Shortly cut blonde hair and pale green eyes. "I'm sorry, it's just that. . ." He smiles comfortably relaxing a bit, while I give him an impatient huff. "Your hair is like moonlight."

I hear Max laugh, having stopped to see why I wasn't following along, it's a loud and slightly mocking sound.

I scoff, releasing more hot air and turn to leave. "My name is Liam . ." He adds, I shrug with my back turned on him. He must have been one of the older boys that I saw. It's only a passing thought where I question just how many relatives Graham had in Amity. "I saw you on visiting day and-"

"I didn't see you." I reply flatly with a finalizing tone before checking my watch. It's a habit.

* * *

Jeanine Matthews the representative of Erudite. She's one of the only Erudite that I find _mildly_ tolerable, because her arrogance is deserved. Matthews earned her bragging rights by being the smartest person in her faction, maybe even the city.

We also share a mutual plight.

She wears a crisp blue suit dress with her spectacles hung loosely around her neck on a chain, I've never seen her wear them on her face, it is a decoration, Erudite are vain. Her smile is patient and warm and despite the temperature of the room, her coat is draped on the chair and she sits straight with her hands curled together on the surface before her completely at ease.

On the other curve of the long conference table sits Jack Kang, the representative of Candor in his finest black and white suit and further down is Johanna Reyes the representative of Amity in light fall colors, dressed for warmth.

Lastly is Andrew Prior which is an active member of Abnegation's council, normally Marcus the leader of Abnegation would be present but his absence is barely noted. He dresses in Abnegation gray with just enough to stay warm but not comfortable.

I also notice the small boy sitting next to Jack, it must be his son and then I find the older boy in gray next to Andrew, they must be potential predecessors.

Jeanine has along her usual impudent assistant, Garret and Johanna has a cheerful young female next to her, that I know is not related, Johanna has no children.

Neither do Max or Jeanine, but considering their lifestyles children are liabilities, inconveniences, as well as undesirable. Falen had just lost his son in the previous year, and his daughter before that.

Max sit's lazily beside me tapping his scarred and tattooed hand on the table, we accept their condolences on the loss of Reid with as much graciousness as we can and their hopes for Falen's speedy recovery before they start on recent news like Amity's new agricultural regime or Candor's negotiation with Abnegation on the repair of their bridge that's to start next spring.

In light of the recent faction-less attack Max offers up heightened security for the winter season. Candor brings up a pressing concern of the recent body count of faction-less littering the city, winter is coming and they are the most harshly effected.

I don't need to formally announce my taking up the mantle of Leadership because they all already expect it.

The only thing between me and the 'title' is time. I'm to start basic leadership training after initiations are over along with the un-determined candidates, they haven't been selected yet. I don't become a leader until my own initiation is completed successfully as standard procedure however.

"How is Marcus?" Jeanine asks Andrew, when the meeting has been concluded. Her assistant never looks up from the electronic device in his hands, he has on his usual thick rimmed glasses. Jack Kang stands near them with a look of pure interest on the topic while Amity files out of the room.

Candor is responsible for the News that is circulated through the city and factions but Erudite is usually the one that produces the topics of their headlines. The recent scandal about Abnegation's transfer is big news.

"He's doing as well as can be expected at the time." Andrew answers solemnly before politely introducing me to his son as if to change the direction. "This is my son Caleb." He says and I shake the boys hand. He has his fathers features, light brown hair and hazel eyes. He doesn't smile but he bows respectfully even though he doesn't have to. I'm not an important figure.

I offer a greeting and he responds in kind, and then gives me his condolences, apologizing for my loss. I thank him graciously.

"Genesis, Max, pleasure to see you again." Jeanine says distracted from her conversation with Abnegation one, her watery-blue eyes take me in calculatingly and she brushes her platinum blonde hair away from her cheek, behind her ear.

"Likewise." Max replies politely, I'm about to answer, to offer up my own pleasantries but Jack's son runs into me. "I apologize." He says immediately bowing, he looks up at me with wide brown eyes like I might hurt him, he barely comes up to my chest. He has black hair and brown eyes like his father. "Bobby." Jack calls and the boy scampers away. I did try to soften my features, and smile but I may have been too late.

"Well if you'll excuse us." Andrew says politely, motioning for his son to also start heading for the door to exit. They both bow respectfully.

We also leave and wait till the elevator takes them down separately but the rest of us are all headed for Erudite. Stage 2 of initiations start soon.

* * *

"It's probably just an error in your new simulation program." Max says aloud and I vaguely catch Jeanine's glare at him from across the room. Max shrugs and leans back in his chair with his arms behind his head completely at ease.

She taps her long painted fingernails on her desk before referring to me. "Do you notice any abnormalities?" Jeanine asks me and I look up at her after watching through for the 3rd time. In total Four is only in his simulation for 5 minutes.

Rather than focus on the _obvious wrong_ , that his Abnegation father may be guilty of factional treason and should not be in charge of the cities government we're looking for minute anomalies, searching for ' _needles in haystacks_ ' in her new and 'improved' version of the fear simulation program.

"Nothing that can't be construed as an error." I respond evenly. Jeanine begins fuming, her tapping becomes louder, sharper. Garret sits across from me and watches me with rapt interest, I've been in the Order longer than him even though he is several years older. I ignore him and work through watching the other simulations of the people on the neatly typed list.

Those that Erudite have noticed after their preliminary fear simulations at the start of initiations in an attempt at testing it out before making improvisations to it for stage 2. If the new serum does not work well, we will revert to the previous years stock.

Transfers:

Four

Graham

Henry

Dauntless Born:

Shauna

Reiner

Out of the 12 initiates they suspect a little less than half of them to be Divergent.

They're just like everyone else. They look, talk, and act like everyone else, which makes them hard to detect.

Sometimes they just bring up those that do suspiciously well. I am inclined to dismiss all of them as normal, and blame Erudite's faulty technology, always.

"Since you two seem to be so well versed in the inner workings of _my_ simulation program tell me how I could go about remedying this error?" Jeanine asks tersely with disdain, she runs a hand through her platinum blonde bob sitting back in her chair. In our presence she hardly keeps up her stoic straight sharp countenance.

We are all too familiar with each other.

"Before we talk about that, _Jeanine_." I say her name with verve. "Did you send the Erudite, Eric Coulter?" Jeanine's expression lightens immediately and she smiles, covering her mouth and I take it that Eric was planted intentionally by her.

If he was, then he has no business in Dauntless. I have half the mind to have his name among this list, to have his name as the _only_ one on the list.

Every year when we get Erudite transfers I suspect them, Jeanine always tries to slip one in.

"Of course not." Jeanine denies, with a raised brow but her smile remains. "In fact I was surprised when he transferred. He had expressed an interest in becoming a _doctor_ , although his aptitude test showed Dauntless. He has a temper that one, little patience, and an inclination for violent behaviors."

"Then why is he observing me?" I ask with little patience, she laughs genuinely as though my question pleases her. The thought of having someone watching me for Erudite purposes is highly aggravating, considering Reid's failure and betrayal, it isn't unlikely that they would watch her spawn closely but I don't appreciate the insinuations.

"Oh Genesis, you are _so_ perfect." She admonishes waving her hand in the air, my expression becomes bored, un-amused. For someone who strictly follows the faction before blood precept she is always the one that blurs those lines with petty unappreciated compliments. "Did you not stop to consider that he may be just another inexperienced adolescent male? Or perhaps it's _your_ inexperience."

"I hardly have an interest in preoccupying myself with the little distractions you so graciously provide us with every year." I say with palpable annoyance, leaning back in my chair to glare at her. The Erudite transfers to their credit do have Dauntless aptitude but they always come with some hidden Erudite agenda spurred by her.

"Poor Coulter, he's obviously not intelligent enough to 'dodge' the metaphorical and literal bullet that is _you_." Jeanine jokes flippantly, insulting me. "It's obvious where he belongs if he's that dim-witted." Insulting me in more ways than one, and Dauntless as well.

Max chuckles and pinches the bridge of his nose before shaking his head. "Let's move on." He says with an exasperated sigh, before checking his watch, our bickering is time consuming. "We'll just watch them _all_ throughout stage 2, or _you_ could investigate the simulations closely, watch the administrations, take a more _hands on approach_. It would be nice to have a little more to work with, Jeanine."

Jeanine frowns and puts her hands on her cheeks to pull them down before sighing in aggravation. "Very well, schedule an appointment for a visit to Dauntless." She shoots to Garret who begins typing immediately into his device. "Anyway, out of what you have observed of _Tobias Eaton_ , do you feel he is having any particular difficulties? Say in. . .' _Fitting in_ ' socially?"

"No more than the other transfers." I reply flatly putting my cheek in my palm, Jeanine looks genuinely pleased by my answer. In all honesty he seems to be the most well adjusted of them. Like Dauntless is where he _belongs_. I look over the initiates rankings from stage one, he definitely shows no reserves.

Although I bristle at the thought of him running away from Abnegation, it's cowardly in a way.

"As you can see he's the top ranked initiate." Max says with a proud undertone. "You know maybe we could have him as one of the candidates for leadership and. . .As Reid's replacement. . .Say after this years purge is over and your new simulation is confirmed a piece of shit." He adds half-jokingly, leaning forward with his hands clasped on the desk. They are the only ones that refers to stage 2 as "the purge", cleaning Dauntless out and filtering in the new.

Jeanine's frown becomes her most prominent feature, she is concerned with who might become the next leader and an addition to The Order. I am as well.

"I don't believe we've tested it on _you_ yet Genesis." She says changing the subject back to her program, while looking me over with calculating blue eyes, for the moment she looks just like Reid. "I wonder, do you still only have _4_ fears?"

"I suppose there is really only one way to find out." I reply with a bored tone, leaning back in the leather chair, raking a hand through my still silver-gray hair, tucking it behind my ear. I'm fairly sure that I don't.

* * *

I slow my rapid breathing and in response slow the painful irksome pounding of my heart against my rib cage while sitting up in the metal chair, blinking away the spots in my vision as the fluorescent lights attack my eyes, my pupils dilate taking in the sharp stabs. I let out a deep breath followed by wiping the sweat off my palms on the fabric of my pants.

Max stands leaned against the glass wall before me, the smell of cigarette smoke invades my nose when I inhale filling my lungs with burning toxins.

Garret works quickly removing the electrodes from my temples, I bristle at his intentionally lingering fingers when he removes the electrodes monitoring my heart rate that was placed between the column of my neck and my collar bone. His spectacle covered eyes advert themselves while I re-zip my jacket up to my chin, expression flat and unaffected by my glare.

"Once again you've proven to be the most successful." Jeanine says sarcastically through the microphone on the other side of the glass, she tilts her head side to side with an eye roll before pressing the intercom button again. "At least Riedley did something right." Her voice is mocking.

Her casual reference to how I was 'raised' brings on an unprecedented rage. Some could say I am a product of years of Erudite and Dauntless conditioning, if there were anyone but a handful of people that even knew or knows, our numbers are dwindling as of late.

We lose members to betrayal, and corruption. Falen's son started killing for sport, of Divergent and non-Divergent and his daughter lost her mind, they were twins. Their mother fell into depression and died shortly thereafter.

Erudite have a string of supporters but Jeanine is always reluctant to have standing members in her sect, Doctors tend to get a bit too _demented_ with methods of dispatching Divergent, we have strict rules.

We are purists. Really. People who insists on absolute adherence to traditional rules and structures, especially within factions. A purist would be preoccupied with purity and identified by how they would protect it from foreign or altered forms. Everything that we do is for Dauntless, and the city.

Which was why the Order was formed in the first place.

The goal is to protect the city from Divergent, to keep such a flaw from spreading and becoming an uncontrollable chaos. To prevent the world from going back to the old destructive ways. A system works only so good as every piece functions as intended. A virus threatens the very existence and foundation with which the system is based. Divergent is a fragment of the old world seeping its way through the walls and into the people.

"Anyway, we can use your results as a variable for the oncoming investigation." Jeanine says again through the speakers with a tired sigh, like she doesn't look forward to the work ahead of her, we all don't look forward to it.

"Would you like a ride back to Dauntless?" Max asks me casually putting his cigarette out under his boot on the pristine white ground, creating an ugly spot. Jeanine makes obscenely rude gestures at his back through the glass.

"No." I sigh, he smirks and then shrugs. During the previous years after fear simulations I've always found myself to be more destructive. I have an extreme dislike for people looking into my fears. He reminds me to stay _away_ from faction-less territory and that the train arrives in 10 minutes.

"Alright, I guess we go back to the _usual_ then." Max says, his smirk becomes a toothy grin, I have no problem with the usual. "Oh, but I hear you've become popular among the transfers, I hope that doesn't cloud your judgement." He adds casually checking his nails.

I take transfers while Falen and Max take Dauntless born initiates, they feel it's being considerate of me, having grown up with most of them.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, pushing my fingers into my eyes and grit my teeth until my jaw protests. "When have I ever?"

* * *

It's a cold night, my breath comes out in huffs, filling the mask that's covering my face with hot air. Only my eyes are exposed to not effect my vision.

My jacket is heavy, larger to conceal my form but fit enough not to hinder my movements, I dressed for warmth and stealth with the hood pulled taut over my tightly pinned hair. The ground gives way to grass under my boots and I step lightly through the quiet corners and shadows, pressing myself between buildings even though I hardly need to. They have a curfew and everyone is already asleep, _has_ been asleep for several hours.

I am completely hidden in the cover of darkness and I have an adequate amount of time before the arrival of the next train and sunrise. This sector of the city is fairly far from Dauntless but by train it is only about an hour and 45 minutes and another 30 minute walk.

Each building is identical, plain, gray and modest but my destination is preset and I know exactly which gray concrete square I'm headed to. When I reach it, I make sure to check by shining my pocket light over the door's plaque.

It reads Eaton Residence.

* * *

All of the initiates fear simulations go well.

Except two this time.

It's not uncommon for an transfer initiate to take the plunge into the chasm when they fear they won't make it through stage 2, or for one of ours to become faction-less without saying goodbye, we have frequent runaways.

It happens every year.

* * *

My mouth is cottony and thick and my head is throbbing, the food on my plate looks disgusting as I push it around with my fork, mixing eggs with bits of breakfast meat. I burp in my mouth once and that coaxed a burning bit of vile acidic liquid vomit up my throat, the taste and after effects of a night spent drinking.

The groans around me are loud and mirror my own, everyone celebrated. I can still hear the chanting and the announcement about him going on to start a new initiation in the great unknown, the greatest achievement, highest bravery. The sounds are hollow echoes in my ear.

I push my plate away from me and press my cheek against the cold table top, the effects of alcohol are strong and I must stop the spinning. "Ugh fuck, I don't wanna go to school today." Gabriel complains draping his arm over my shoulder to pull me up, he shakes me roughly.

Kat sits across from me and I can tell she's as hung over as the rest of us, she drank the most. She has her face in her hands and groans loudly about her aching head, using words like knives stabbing her skull or mini men chiseling a statue, and exploding eardrums.

I reach across for my cup of coffee to wash the bile from my throat as it feels scratchy and thick and she looks up smiling brightly with straight rows of white teeth, but the look in her green eyes betrays her. The kind of look where she may need more alcohol, the kind of look that _sighs,_ there is never enough alcohol.

"I wouldn't drink that if I were you." She says slyly before scooping a forkful of my neglected breakfast into her mouth, she chews loudly with her mouth open.

But I'm already drinking it.

* * *

I glare at the book that's been dropped in front of me, right on top of the sign in sheets, my fingers curl around the pen in my hand, making my knuckles white with the effort to snap it in half. I take a deep calming breath and slide it back over to the end of the reception desk but he makes no movement to retrieve it.

I give him a raised brow while removing the lid of the fizzy water Amar brought me moments before and take a sip. My look questions him wordlessly but his expression does not answer, he gives me a slight smirk.

"It has no _words_ in it." Eric answers simply with an uncaring shrug before leaving. I'm not sure what bothers me more, that he seems to be more observant of me than I'd like, or that he's given me a book, or that he's come into the shop without getting a tattoo or a piercing.

I definitely do not like all the pictures in it or the implication that he's been _watching_ me.

* * *

"Enough, Jeanine denies that he was planted. He's clean, his aptitude test was Dauntless. Tori ran the tests this year." Max says sternly, blowing an obscenely large amount of smoke out of his mouth and nose. "He is one of the top initiates, for now, just drop it. He's a boy, showing you more attention than you're used to, that's what teenage boys do."

I grit my teeth and glare at Max, I knew it was pointless to bring up my suspicions of Eric. They just blame my inexperience with handling affections or attention from the opposite sex. I have no evidence, Eric had little belongings in his possession. Other than his Dauntless clothing the only other thing he had we're his old Erudite spectacles.

"We have much more important matters to discuss." Max says with a deep frown, he taps his fingers on the table next to the tablet with the news headlines flashing across it. I lean back against the wall near the door and cross my arms over my chest.

"I know, I know." Falen replies with a sigh, he leans back in his chair, his knee bounces rapidly, patting the ground with his boot. "He's out of control."

Gordon, Falen's son was excommunicated and left to faction-less 2 years ago where he was 'Allowed' to cull their numbers, but _only_ during the winter time when their deaths could be blamed on the harsh weather and it seems he's gotten a bit out of hand this year.

I disproved of their decision in letting him live, I disproved of their decision on letting him _loose_ in society.

I was younger then, they didn't listen to me, they didn't listen to Reid either. Now Gordon has killed an _innocent_. A Candor woman.

"Should we draw straws?" Max asks next, he pushes away from his desk to open one of his drawers to produce the method in which we will decide who will dispense Falen's deranged son. Falen agrees instantly, although he expresses his thought's on how he should be the one to do it, because he is partially responsible. Max insists that this is a group issue because they had taken a vote. I voted _for_ Gordon's death.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and push my fingers into my eyes and draw mine out of his hand after Falen draws his.

Max got the shortest straw.

"Unless you want to volunteer Gene?" He asks me with a slightly hopeful tone and a sigh. "You have more free time than I do."

"No." I reply flatly with a dull expression, Max chuckles. Gordon probably remembers _my_ vote.

* * *

The dining hall is filled with people, we sit on top of one of the tables. Kat and Jackie stand over me while I sit leaning back against their legs, everyone is wearing their fancy special occasion clothing. The air is buzzing with excitement and chattering.

Four slides into the bench adjacent to ours and angles himself to face outwards and he looks anxious, even as he takes nibbles of a piece of bread. Zeke, Shauna and the others are all bouncing out of their seats, or jumping precariously from table to table slapping hands.

Amar stands on his table with the initiates and waves over at me excitedly, he wasn't too thrilled to have lost one but he is happy to have successfully gotten a year of instructing experience under his belt, determined not to lose another initiate _ever_ again.

Max jumps up onto a table far up front with the swiftness of someone half his age, and he smiles proudly before holding his hand up to silence the masses. Mostly everyone quiets down, it's not until he taps the microphone and creates an ear shattering screech that the room falls silent, save for the chuckles and throat clearing.

"A few weeks ago, a group of scrawny, scared initiates gave their blood to the coals and made the big jump into Dauntless." Max starts. "To be honest, I didn't think any of them would make it through the first day." His joke does not go unappreciated, the laughter and snickers sound out as if on cue. "But I'm pleased to announce that all of our remaining initiates attained the required scores necessary to become Dauntless!"

The cheers erupt, filling the room with nothing but noise. Falen appears and joins Max on the table despite his still injured leg. "No more delays!" He bellows over the cheering and yelling, cups are clanking as people start drinking. "I know our initiates are jumping out of their skin. So, here are our 11 new Dauntless members!"

Kat and Jackie lower themselves to sit on either sides of me, reaching out to grab their own cups from the wave of them being passed around. Kat cheers loudly and sways, brushing her arm against mine as we read the names that appear on the large screen.

1\. Four

2\. Eric

3\. Zeke

4\. Ash

5\. Shauna

I don't read the rest as the people in front of me start jumping up and down creating a chaos of screams and yells, they grab Four and throw him in the air repeatedly, the boy from Abnegation, only Four fears, top of rankings in stage 1 and top in stage 2. He's also become a candidate for leadership.

He is no longer Tobias Eaton. He is Four, A Dauntless. He has successfully stepped out of his past.

When I finally spot Eric he looks angry, obviously not happy with being second place. He had _12_ fears. It's almost a bit disappointing that he's also considered a candidate for Leadership, Jeanine continues to deny his possibly being intentionally assimilated into Dauntless, but if doesn't desist he may not last much longer.

I suppose after they get their apartments and get settled they'll get the news, leadership training starts tomorrow.

Another year is coming to a close but the next will be completely different.

* * *

I lay awake in the dark listening to the soft snores and breathing around me and check my watch, which reads 2:24 A.M.

I sit up slowly and push the heavy pre-winter comforters off, and slide my legs over the side of the bed, silently and even more slowly creeping out of it, so as to not wake Kat or Jackie. The concrete ground is extremely cold under my bare feet as I make my way out of my room, stopping briefly to slide my pants on and gather my jacket, gloves and boots and I close my bedroom door silently behind me.

My apartment is still slightly tossed from the celebration of new members last night, I should probably clean. As soon as I pick up several empty cups and re-adjust my couch cushions a soft knock sounds at my door.

"Good morning, Gene." Max says, he has on an exuberant smile with his hands clasped in front of him. "We have a quick stop to make."

* * *

Thanks for reading, reviews are highly appreciated.


	5. Little Boy

In the brightly lit room of the Erudite laboratory lay several metal examination tables, 3 to be exact.

Next to each one is a console displaying vitals on a screen, there are numerous amounts of wires, electrodes, tubes, and Iv's attached to the bodies lain on each surface. They're all unconscious, but they are all very much _alive_.

With Dauntless finishing up their initiations, Erudite have just completed theirs as well, for the _most_ part. They've uncovered 2 themselves for a total of 4 altogether, counting ours, but they have one extra.

We don't actively seek them out in Dauntless, not like they do in Erudite.

"You could just send them to faction-less." Garret says softly, he is only speaking to me and in actuality we probably could. Before a failed initiate is sent to faction-less they are sterilized. They cannot breed, and most of the time they don't last long.

But that's not the way we do things when it comes to Divergent.

I stare down at the girl, a year older than me with cropped short dark brown hair, they're asleep, her pale pink lips are slightly parted as she breathes. They are heavily dosed with propofol, its primary uses are to treat insomnia, cure night terrors, and induce coma's, when the patient wakes they do not even remember being put under. I am familiar with the drug.

They _look_ like everyone else, in a way that is what makes them the most dangerous. But they look like _everyone_ else which makes it. . .Difficult.

The clacking of heels against the hard floor, heading towards us along with the heavy sounds of boots indicate the arrival of Jeanine, Max and Falen. They speak among themselves while I glance over each of the Divergent brain activities, the different parts of their display light up, flickers, an array of colors.

Maybe they're dreaming.

These particular Divergent we're being used for testing. They appear to have numerous incisions, abrasions, and lacerations on the exposed parts of their bodies. I don't approve instantly. I don't approve of torture or experimentation.

There is a boy, much younger than the rest with curly blonde hair. His chubby cheeks are slightly red, like Uriah's when he was cold. Without much thought I pull the pristine white sheet higher, to cover his shoulders all the way up to his chin, he is the youngest one I've seen. This boy might be barely 9 years old.

"We've developed a newer serum, this one is undetectable in the system, it will make disposing of them much more. . _.Humane_. No blood, no mess." Jeanine says with a slightly proud undertone, this is a demonstration of a product. "They will feel no pain."

They talk for a while longer while I watch the little boy's heart monitor, the beeping is soft and slow and it goes along in time to the beating of my own. I wonder passingly, how long they've been testing on this particular one.

When Garret steps over with shaking hands he injects them with a dark purple liquid directly into their skin and each of their monitors begin to beep less and less until they flat line, I watch as their chests slowly stop moving and their slightly parted lips as if I could see the last breath exiting their lungs. All the activity on their brain monitors disappears leaving a dull schematic of their minds. Empty. He shuts the machine off afterwards to silence the long dull sound.

I step back and away so he can get around me to the last patient, but his hands are shaking greatly, the final syringe is being shaken so violently that he could drop it, the purple liquid inside swishes and slides in the glass.

Garret looks up at me with wide brown eyes behind his foggy spectacles. I can see the tears that glitter in the corners, threatening to spill when I take the syringe from him. My hands don't shake when I step back over to the little boy, my only thought is that no one else will hurt him, no one else will poke or prod him.

The soft conversation in the room fades out of my ears when I brush his soft blonde curls away and out of his sleeping peaceful face, I wonder how long he's been asleep here in this glass prison.

When he visits me, I promise to play with him and take him away from here.

* * *

Garret and I wait patiently outside of the listless Erudite building, I don my gloves and tuck my hair in to pull my hood over my head. It's not quite snowing yet but I can feel the air begin to frost, it's only a matter of time. I glance down at the large armored vehicle and at Max and Falen sharing a morning cigarette, deliberating on today's start of the leadership course.

They had offered me a ride back to Dauntless, which I accepted as it is still fairly early, my watch reads 4 A.M. and the sky is slightly beginning to lighten. Garret is not dressed for being outdoors but I know he's lingering because he is lonely. He's claims that he's not cold because the inside of Erudite is just as wintry, if not slightly more so.

"What was the boys name?" I ask him, while pulling the zipper of my slightly thicker jacket up to my chin, it's frigid in the morning and I feel as though I don't have enough layers. There is no warmth inside, I rub my arms over the fabric.

He removes his glasses, uncomfortable with the topic, his jaw tightens and his lip quivers as he wipes the lenses off on the corner of his coat. He hasn't quite calmed down yet, but he is slowly settling.

"His name was Charles." Garret answers when he can, the tremor in his voice is still there as though he may cry, he does not maintain eye contact and although his glasses are thoroughly clean he does not stop wiping them and stares at the ground.

"How long has he been here?" I inquire next, my tone stays passive.

"A year." He answers with honest certainty, he does not question my interest or ask me of my intentions. For a moment we stand still, silently breathing while letting the cold air swirl around us, each breath I take makes me feel a little more solid. I am a bit uncertain to what my intentions are, why I'm asking these questions.

"His parents?" My tone becomes a bit lower. I adjust my gloves and curl my covered fingers against my palm the slight tremble under my skin like my blood is boiling underneath creates an almost painful sensation around my lungs.

"Both deceased, he was orphaned the winter before last. . . Erudite Born." Garret returns his glasses to his face and smooths his jacket back down, before running an unsteady hand through his black hair. "Both parent's were unfortunate victims. . .Casualties to a faction-less assault, and when the boy did not recover. . .They found his Divergence."

There is something familiarizing about the situation and timeline.

"The Candor woman." I bring up next when I make the realization, Garret looks confused but to him it would seem unrelated, he wouldn't be able to make the connection, he wasn't around 2 years ago. "The one that was found recently, did she have any children?" I ask putting my gloved hands into my pockets, he should know about current events though, I'm not quite sure why I wanted to know if she had children.

"Uhm. . .Yes, I believe she did." Garret says, still slightly confused. "Would you like me to check?" He doesn't wait for me to answer instead he pulls a tablet out of his pocket and I wait. "This is the first time we've actually had a conversation. . ." He mentions while he works to find the recent news. "Her name was Marelyn Hayes, widowed, mother of one Peter Hayes."He finishes without continuing his earlier statement.

I nod my head slowly and stand there unsure of what I wish to know next, unsure of what to do next for the first time in years and I stare at the desolate damaged buildings in the distance, the direction of the train tracks and at the still dark swirling sky, it's too early to go into faction-less territory and I am under dressed, not to mention unprepared.

But I know who killed Charles' parents.

Falen's ghost has lingered for far too long and fortunately for Max, I find myself with a little more free time, _preferring_ a little more free time.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" Garret asks me before rubbing his hands together for warmth.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to start leadership course?" Amar asks me with extreme curiosity, his brows are raised with a slight head tilt. "You'd finish next winter, right when you finish initiations." He reminds while elbowing me. "You would start right off as a Leader, or you could be an instructor like me."

"I'm sure." I reply kicking my boot into a bit of the white cold mush that now decorates most of the city. My breath comes out in a thick fog, our feet crushing and crushing snow under foot. I pull my hood over my head to keep my ears warm while we take a stroll in the frigid outdoor weather. "I'm starting to think maybe I could do other jobs." I add with a deep sigh.

Leadership courses have begun a few days ago, they last a full year and it turns out that Four is expressing an immediate distaste for the position.

Max told me in passing that Four want's to be an instructor and work the rest of his time in the control room behind monitors, Max was very disappointed, but I find myself almost relieved. Although the thought of there being one less competent person in the way of Eric becoming Reid's predecessor is a little disappointing.

Max reminded me that Eric would be perfect. Easily manipulated, and that it could help further the progress made towards a safe city a sound faction. I'm still slightly suspicious of him, but so far he hasn't come forward or made any indications of doing so.

Maybe I also don't want to have to work with someone inexperienced, his temper would make him volatile, he would just become another Gordon.

"Like what?" Amar asks jokingly I become distracted by my mental deliberation. "Entertainment? Becoming a janitor? Maybe you want to do food service?" He asks mockingly, all jobs that I expressed a distaste for. "You could always stay at the tattoo shop though." He says thoughtfully, suddenly serious.

"I'm actually going in a rotation." I admit, with a shrug. "I'm going to go through almost every job in Dauntless." Amar smiles at me with all of his straight white teeth and pinches my numb cheek like he's proud. It will help me pass the time, provide me with distractions.

"Where are you going to start at?" Amar asks curiously, I hadn't thought about it much and when I told Max during the drive back that day and he just laughed at me and said it was a waste of my skills, a waste of my time, and that I still had other obligations and work to attend to.

For some reason I find myself reluctant to continue them. More so every day.

"At the bottom." I reply with another deep sigh. The future is moving forward and surely there must be something else my hands are good at. In time I won't be needed at all. "So I guess that means becoming a janitor." I say in response to his earlier suggestion, he starts laughing.

"How are you going to do every single job before choosing?" Amar asks but his eyes are twinkling..

"Since there are 6 months till now and choosing, I guess I'll just spend a little time in each one." I explain fixing my gloves, before brushing loose strands of hair from my face. "I-" The words get cut off when I am hit with a cold wet force from behind. Amar bursts out laughing, doubling over into the snow kicking up the white mess everywhere.

I turn sharply and see Kat, waving at me enthusiastically, her hair is now green. Gabriel hides behind her, peeking out from under her arm while giving me his 'I'm watching you' expression with two fingers and another ball of snow rounded in his other hand.

I bend down and cup my hands around the white slush and form my own snowball. I hesitate for a moment, I've been hesitating a lot lately the past few days during mundane and simple things that I don't need thoughts to accomplish.

It used to be easier to keep things separate, but I find myself noticing that the force in which I throw the snowball back at their retreating forms, or when I thoughtlessly drink my morning coffee, or willingly crawl into bed full of people at the end of the day, it's a little harder, it's different.

Surely there are things my hands are better suited for. Even if they are predetermined for other things, created to do other things.

* * *

"As you all know, today is the final day of schooling for our senior students." Jeanine says, she stands in the front of the auditorium. She's dressed in her usual sharp blue suit dress with her glasses hung around her neck, she talks about how we have attained enough knowledge to make a smart, sound decision for our futures and about how our choosing ceremony is only 6 months away and that in 2 month most of us will be stepping into our 16 year old forms, reminding us that in the very fast approaching future we will be taking our aptitude tests. "We welcome you with open arms as adults capable of making the right choice. The future depends on those who know where they belong."

People clap, and I clap along with them absently until I get tapped on the shoulder. When I turn around so does Kat and she glares at the Amity standing behind us, she expresses her distaste at me being touched and I appreciate her for it. I remember this Amity from before, the one who sang in a class, but I don't know his name.

"Are those for me?" She asks, her voice is icy, much like the snow falling outside, it looks to be a brewing snow storm. I turn back around to watch as Jeanine Matthews leaves the room along with all the teachers that taught us over the years. I am done with inter-faction schooling and one day soon there will no longer be any inter-faction schooling. Soon every faction will be required to teach their children.

Erudite's agenda has become more ambitious.

At first I was alright with the idea, I disliked school very much, I believed that inter-faction schooling was the bane of this cities existence, it encouraged transferring, and that leads to an increase in faction-less. I still believe it but a small, miniscule part of me does not wish for Erudite to be in charge of the government.

There was no incriminating evidence against Abnegation and with Andrew Prior as acting representative surely they are still the appropriate choice.

"Actually." Says the Amity boy. "They're for the girl with _moonlight_ hair." I don't turn around and Kat starts laughing raucously, she slaps my back and almost doubles over from her laughter, bumping into the people beside her, they shove her back un-graciously but she doesn't care.

In the Amity boy's hands are _weeds_.

"Oh my gosh, Gene, oh my gosh, I can't even-" Kat continues, she wipes the tears from her eyes, her smile is so big and bright, her green eyes are finally normal again. Her hair is now blue. "They're giving you daisies!" She cracks up again and soon she begins snorting. " _Daisies_!"

Oh. Daisies.

Max had reminded me of Amity's distribution date in two and a half weeks, for once I find myself reluctant to go.

* * *

"You missed a spot." Eric says leaning casually against the concrete wall with his arms crossed over his chest, he wears a triumphant look, at the way I appear beneath him in stature and status in this moment. He presses his snow covered boot on the ground that I've just scrubbed over for the 2nd time, creating a wet mound of ice and mud.

Instead of rising to his challenge, I swallow my pride thickly down my throat, and willingly make my way, on hands and knees with my bucket, rags and barbed brush to scrub and clean his dirty footprint from the ground. This job is not hard, but it's not one I can do for long.

For I've spent too long scrubbing blood off concrete to not mistakenly confuse this ice and mud for the thick red substance mixed with brain matter and human tissue, the only difference is temperature. I won't be staying in this job. Not another day.

* * *

"Gene! Could you cut the cake please?!" Jackie asks in a frantic manner, dinner today is rushed and I am too slow to keep up with the flurry of people working so precisely and efficiently around me. I had been standing in front of a row of cakes, having been put in charge of the baking section of the large Dauntless kitchen, in all my years I have never been in here.

The knife in my hand feels heavy, and when it slides into the cake with little effort on my part I know that I am ill suited for this job. Not just because I do not like sweets.

* * *

"To think there are things the great Genesis can't do." Joseph says tossing me a paint brush. I don't answer him and I've only just started this new job not minutes ago. "I guess that means you aren't the ideal wife. . .If you can't cook." He jokes while painting large strokes of waterproofing agent over the newly buffed initiates co-ed bathroom.

"I guess not." I answer flatly before drenching the end of my own brush with the thick clear substance and proceeding to making long strokes all over the tiled walls.

* * *

"What's with all these jobs you're doing?" Eric asks me curiously, he stands beside me with his head tilted as I fold a shirt neatly, it takes me forever to get through one load of laundry while Ash, Henry and Mia all breeze through theirs with ease. They glance over some times and offer to help me but I don't let them, I'm not here to give them more work.

This job is nice, its clean, sterile, easy, but I can't do it. It's too clean, too sterile. The fabric of clothing is too soft in my hands, the smell of detergent is too pungent and strong. "The difference between a boss and a leader is that a boss says 'Go' but a leader says 'let's go'." I reply thinking about how it could be possible to steer him back towards Dauntless values. More and more of his ideal improvements for Dauntless seem intent on making Leaders have much more power in Erudite form. "If I can't do all these jobs then I shouldn't be allowed to tell others to do them."

He made a suggestion to Max on changing the traditional initiation process by creating only a limited number of spots for Dauntless born and for transfers. To increase competitiveness and only produce the best stock. Falen agrees with _me_ that Dauntless values are sound, bravery and camaraderie. Initiation is already proficient in teaching those values, Dauntless doesn't need to change.

Eric snorts at me and his gray-blue eyes narrow, he notices when my hands hesitate over the pristine white sheet dropped on top of my already overwhelming pile.

* * *

"It's only been 2 weeks and you've gone through what? 5 jobs?" Amar laughs raucously, his food comes sputtering out, Tori slaps him hard on the arm when he catches her with some of the spray.

I've come back to sitting in the reception chair of the tattoo shop for a few days for some familiarity. That I never realized I needed.

Tori and Bud we're more than accommodating.

Amar brought his lunch over because he's on break from working in the control room with Four and Zeke, he's really cheerful lately. I thank him for the soda and when he tosses food into my mouth, bits of rolled up bread. I catch them effortlessly although the taste is bland.

"What is your next job?" Tori asks me after they laugh about how I can't cook, I can't clean and I can't even do laundry, they praise me for trying but continue to tease me relentlessly.

"Chasm Maintenance." I answer casually, calmly taking a bite out of one of Amar's carrots.

Eric told me the amount of pressure it takes to bite through a carrot is the same as it takes to bite off a person's finger, I try to avoid the carrots now but when he's around I know he expects me to after telling me that little fact.

"How is your leadership training?" Amar asks Eric conversationally it hasn't been that long since they started. The Leader in training sits casually in the chair getting a new tattoo but on his calf. I increase the pressure without anyone noticing and he takes a loud crunching bite out of his own carrot before answering.

"Great." He says with a shrug, the carrot still being crushed between his teeth, he makes a show out of talking with his mouth full, exposing the mushed bits of orange between his pearly whites. "I guess all it took was a little _push_ in the right direction."

I take another bite forcing my teeth through with a little more emphasis than necessary, while maintaining eye contact with a dull and un-amused expression, attempting to inconspicuously increase the pressure a little more. It's already at maximum.

* * *

"This is a nice place." Eric says striding into my apartment, while I close the door behind me I leave it unlocked. He walks further in and I take a seat, at first I was unsure why I brought him here, I'm unsure of his intentions. He must have witnessed. I was careless.

I rest my elbow on the table with my cheek against my palm as he curiously inspects the empty room, I have a table, a chair, a couch and a half kitchen with empty cabinets and a sink. The bathroom is around the corner with the standard bathroom settings. "No roommates?"

"I have many." I reply simply, referring to the people who sleep here _all_ the time now. He walks over to my room and opens the door, he doesn't go inside but instead just sticks his head in to look around. My room has a bed, a dresser and a mirror. The closet is open so he can probably see my array of all black identical clothing.

"Is this room always locked?" Eric asks when he tries unsuccessfully to open the other door. I don't answer him but he gives me a questioning look before knowingly looking into the planter located next to it and retrieving the key, he's obviously smart.

I don't stop him or complain when he unlocks the door and looks inside. That room is empty. Just a bed and a dresser. The closet is closed, the contents undisturbed. "Well, you've got to be the most interesting person I've encountered." He says with a heavily sarcastic tone. He sighs disappointingly before sagging into my couch, he left the key in the door knob and the door ajar.

"What do you want?" I ask when he makes no movement to leave, or to start the actual conversation, I expect him to blackmail me.

He just sits on the couch comfortably, kicking his feet up with his boots on and lays back with his hands behind his head. I stand and make my way to the door, shutting it with a slam, locking it, removing the key and shoving it into the dirt of the plant.

"I just have some questions. Since we'll be working _together_ in the future. . .And I thought maybe we could get to know one another better." Eric admits with a shrug, his blue-gray eyes follow me as I walk to my room and shut that door too. "So where do you keep it?"

I don't answer. Instead I lift my boot to the chair and slide my knife out of it to place on the table, I know he's not asking about my concealed weapon; for him to ask where anything I have hidden is implies that he knows I have a hidden cache.

"I'm asking about the mask." Eric says rolling his eyes but his mouth turns up into a smirk. I've only used it once this whole year to search for evidence of Abnegation's corruption.

When I don't answer he looks thoughtful for a moment before standing and heading to the unused kitchen. I watch as he turns the faucet to check the flow of water and then shuts it off when it comes out irregularly and then kneels to open the bottom cabinets. He is _too_ Erudite. I stand silently, swiftly, with my knife while he disappears halfway to get in behind the pipes.

When he comes back out with it, kneeling on his knees I grip his hair to pull his head back and press the blade against his throat. My fingers grip his slightly longer hair between my fingers with little gentleness as I yank his head further back to expose the tattoos along the columns of his neck.

He doesn't move and his blue-gray eyes become bright, _excited_ as he leans back and into me, resting his head against my shoulder. "I'm not going to tell anyone." Eric says, his voice does not shake. He's also Dauntless.

I brush the blade lightly along his growing stubble, shearing the tiny pieces of hair off his neck and watch as his throat moves when he swallows thickly. I'm used to this, my hands don't shake, I'm not hesitating. But the thought of cleaning up after this, of disposing the body is severely unappealing.

I remove the knife and let him stand, he turns to face me leaning back against the kitchen counter with a smooth and composed countenance. The smug look in his expression is what keeps the knife in my hand. "Then what is it that you want?" I demand.

"Nothing." Eric says with a shrug. My brows furrow and I stare into his blue-gray eyes. "I want you to continue doing what it is you do, I've been watching you do all these piece of shit jobs and I've been waiting for you to realize that there is really only one thing you're good at." He turns his back on me, as though I don't still have a knife in my hands and places the wrapped mask on the counter, to start riffling through my cabinets.

"Why do you have these? Where did you even get them?" Eric asks with pure disgust, becoming completely distracted. "Why do you keep them in here? They're dead." He asks so many questions and he turns around holding up a small cylindrical glass vase with dead weeds - _Daisies,_ floating in murky old water, he shakes it around to disturb the contents.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and press my fingers into my eyes, while grinding my teeth together.

Never have I come across something like this. His bizarre playful and teasing countenance, his blatant and superficial nature when it comes to somber, grave and very serious situations. Someone who is extremely observant and yet completely oblivious. I am confused.

"Aren't you lonely?" Eric asks and he sounds curious, he holds the vase under his nose to sniff the mixture, and he scrunches his face up before pouring it all down the kitchen sink, turning the faucet to wash his hands. "I'd imagine you live a very lonely life."

"I've never felt that way." I answer with a complacent shrug.

* * *

So Eric is a psycho and the main character has developed a slight PTSD.


	6. Daisies

Thanks for the reviews. Really, thanks, I appreciate them.

* * *

"I wouldn't drink that if I were you." Eric says casually, leaning forward, pressing his elbows into the table top. The warmth through the paper cup radiates through my cold hands as I lift it to my lips and take a sip, the hot liquid is sickly sweet on my tongue.

The coffee has been sweetened with sugar, way too much sugar.

"What did you just say?" Kat asks him incredulously, her brows knit together under her now bright pink hair.

I swallow thickly before scraping the taste off my tongue between my teeth, it lingers caught between my lips, making the roof of my mouth prickly in rejection to the sweetness.

"I put a _lot_ of sugar into it." Eric says with a shrug before taking a sip of his own drink. Kat looks at me with a confused expression, the rest of the occupants at the table also look at us confused. I sit at the end, across from Eric and in front of me is a plate with a piece of chocolate cake on it.

I start rubbing circles into my temples. My head aches worse than I've ever felt before, the only times where I get to be away from this leader in training is when I lock myself in my room, or when I'm with the younger Dauntless born or when he is 'Forced' to go to his leadership courses.

It's been only two days since our vague conversation and although he hasn't questioned me further he continues to shadow me.

Max told me to 'humor' him and that he is the best candidate, he reminds me that Eric has not exposed me and that he could have, he feels that I should be 'appreciative' and learn how to 'Be a teenage girl', but I'm going to kill him. Possibly by accident.

Max is treating the situation with indifference, meanwhile he and Falen deliberate a punishment for my carelessness rather than a solution for the consequences of it. Eric had seen, and instead of treating him like the liability that he is they deem him untouchable, even more suitable.

I've forgotten my watch at home today. I _never_ forget my watch.

Today is a Wednesday, I never carry my knife on Wednesdays because of training but I have brought my knife and _not_ my watch.

I'm distracted and I don't know what he wants, but he won't go away.

"I have work." I say flatly before standing to leave. I don't know why I announced myself. It's Wednesday, there is no work for me, and training has ended the same day as graduation. Everyone at the table besides him knows that.

"You mean _chasm maintenance_?" Eric asks, his eyes narrow and his smile becomes wide and taunting. He is testing me, my patience, if he thinks I have a _desire_ to kill people and that it is triggered, he is mistaken.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Kat asks me with wide green eyes and shock apparent all over her features. Gabriel stops with his fork half way to his mouth and all the food drops off it, Jackie pauses while reaching for the plate I left abandoned. Joseph is the only one that starts laughing like Kat has just made a joke.

"No, she doesn't have _time_ for boyfriends, she's busy taking care of Dauntless." Eric says to Kat conversationally while pushing the plate closer to Jackie's outstretched hand, I slide back into the bench, and sit down with a thump. He has hidden meaning behind his words but none that the rest of them will catch.

They all know of my usual responsibilities, occasional paper-pushing, experience for leadership outside of the basic leadership courses, It's a common excuse _they_ came up with for my lack of relationships.

"Well yeah, but then why the hell are _you_ following her around?" Gabriel asks while shoveling food into his mouth, he chews loudly. "Does she have to teach you how to shake your dick off after you pee?" Joseph snickers at his vulgarity and Jackie sputters and slaps him on the arm. Kat laughs while pounding the table. I press my palms into my eyes and add pressure by pressing my elbows into the surface so I won't have to see Eric's childish temper.

"She could probably teach you a thing or two about-"

"You guys Dauntfest is coming up!" Uriah screeches at the top of his lungs, I look up to see him launch himself onto our table, to stand with his chest puffed out, he drums his chest as the cheers in the cafeteria erupt around us.

Several people pound the tables with fists or stomp their feet and chant. "Daunt-Fest! Daunt-Fest!"

Eric has a scowl on his face, and slides out of the bench to leave, in a way I appreciate them because I feel they may have intentionally tried to chase him away. The table becomes crowded by Sean, Henry and the others, Kat gets pushed right into my side to make room for them.

"What is Dauntfest?" Asks Sean curiously, and the cheers and pounding stop as though they never even started. Sean looks at each face at the table with raised brows. Uriah glowers over him, kneeling down on the table in front of the wide eyed older Dauntless.

"Did you just ask what Dauntfest is?" Uriah asks incredulously, playfully threatening, he pushes the plate Sean had just placed out of the way, sliding it over the table and it stops at my elbow. Marlene rolls her eyes and flings food at him using her fork but Uriah is focused on his current task. Humiliating Sean.

"I think he just did." Lynn supplies deviously, she curls her hand into a fist and cracks her knuckles loudly. Each one pops and sends a crackle across my vision, the sound attacks my eardrums, effectively stabbing the back of my eyeballs. The sound's too similar to that of bones breaking.

"Oh yeah he did." Kat agrees, slinging her arm over Lynn, the others tease Sean, even Henry.

"Dauntfest is a celebration towards the end of the year." I say without looking back up, I press my fingers into my eyes again till I see twinkling lights and feel the throbbing of my head through them. "There are feasts, alcohol, entertainment. . .Fireworks courtesy of. . .Fucking _Erudite_ , because everyone becomes one year older. It lasts for a whole week. We let go of the year and prepare for a new one."

There is no sound after I explain what Dauntfest is, or more or less what it entails. I remove my hands and blink a few times as the dim light assaults my pupils, making the stabbing of my skull much more prominent.

Uriah is angled towards me on the table, staring at me, as are the rest of them. Sean has his mouth open wide, Kat gives me a devious smirk, and Jackie is munching on the piece of frisked cake.

"Daunt-Fest!" Someone screams out from somewhere else in the room and everyone starts chanting, pounding, and stomping again. The vibrations in the room reverberate through me, adding emphasis to the way my blood trembles under my skin.

* * *

"Gene, I don't feel particularly. . .You shouldn't take that many." Leslie says nervously as I throw 7 light blue pills into my mouth at once, I crunch them between my teeth and let the powdery, dry, putrid flavor dust my tongue. She hands me a cup of water and I drink it down thirstily.

They are painkillers for the headache that plagues me, but my real headache is not so easily dealt with. "Thank you." I say to her genuinely as I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand and put the empty paper cup onto the little metal handcart near a gurney. She smiles at me kindly, her brown eyes squint behind her spectacles. This may be the first time I've thanked her for attending to me.

I never go to the infirmary.

"There you are, Genie." Says a loud and impatient male voice. I cover my face with my hands and imagine them wrapped around Eric's tattooed neck.

* * *

The Amity trucks arrive right on time, bright and early in the morning. at 4.A.M. I watch as their faded rusted vehicles loaded with supplies, rations and people, park along the loading docks near the open overhead doors to Dauntless storage.

The sky is slightly darkened and flakes of snow fall lightly around me, sticking to the fabric of my thick jacket. I twist my watch around my wrist before pulling my glove over it and readjusting my sleeve.

"Nothing like the smell of Amity in the morning." Says Eric sarcastically, he takes a deep breath next to me with his hands on his hips, his lack of sleeves during the cold months of the year, is probably to flaunt his muscular arms with numerous tattoos decorating his skin. He is vain and narcissistic.

I ignore him and head for the first truck to greet the driver, it's Amelia and she is dressed in warm clothing with a large scarf over her neck and hair.

"Good morning Genie!" She gushes with an exuberant smile, she hands me an invoice and an apple, I thank her graciously. "An apple a day keeps the Erudite away." She jokes lightly.

* * *

Four had greeted me today and asked how I was doing, it was an unusually light conversation and he accepted the apple that I offered to him. He's been working with Amar, and in the upcoming initiations he'll be shadowing him, together they will be training the transfers.

This is our first real conversation, but it was not unpleasant.

"Good morning Genie!" Germaine greets warmly, Four nods his departure when he gets interrupted between his telling of Zeke and his most recent escapades.

I did not respond much but Four seemed appreciative of my silence as I listened to him attentively. He's more talkative than I had originally observed.

"Winter is in full swing. . .Thank you for these, I remembered to bring my own gloves this time." Germaine says with a wink of his crinkly eyes, as he returns the pair I lent him.

"Good." I reply, while retrieving them and putting the extra pair into my jacket pocket.

We are almost done for the day, and volunteers are beginning to thin out.

Max arrives and asks me if I'm going to accompany them to Erudite to pick up a new colorful product they produced for this years fireworks and I accept even though he had invited Eric along as well.

"Ready to go?" Falen asks me patiently as I hand him the invoice, Eric and Max are already loaded into the truck ready to go.

"Yeah." I reply with a deep sigh breathing out a thick fog of white air, and follow after him.

My boots crunch the soft snow and sink in, there is about several inches of the white mush on the ground and it's only getting higher. I think this year might be the coldest winter I've encountered.

"Genie!" Germaine calls out, I turn around to see the elderly Amity man rushing back over, kicking up the snow in a hurried attempt not to keep us long. "I almost forgot." He exclaims slapping himself on the forehead, he is breathing heavily, overworking himself. "I have a special delivery for you!"

I accept the daisies, and tell him to send my thanks along before placing them in my empty jacket pocket, moving my extra pair of gloves to my pants. I had not wanted to admit to myself that my eyes involuntarily scanned the crowds in search of Liam but I never found his shade of blonde.

Falen laughs raucously, much like Kat had, and claps me on the shoulder.

It seems that some weeds can grow in the harshest of conditions, even in the dead of winter.

* * *

"What was that for?" Falen asks curiously when he slides into the front seat, slamming the door behind him. I get into the back and slam the door behind myself, and settle into the cold leather seat with my elbow in the door handle and my cheek in my palm to stare out the window.

"What was what for?" Max asks him without any real interest, while starting the vehicle up. The loud roar of the engine is deafening as it comes to life, shuddering and humming, lurching a bit when he adjusts the gear from park to drive. He doesn't go right away and turns up the heat, holding his bare hands in front of the vent rotating them for warmth.

"A reminder." I reply flatly, Eric does not say anything even though he sits on the other end, far enough away to where he doesn't exist, but it is my way of hinting to him that the Leaders of Dauntless are privy to my lifestyle.

"They won't survive long in your possession." Falen comments casually, he clicks his seat belt on and turns the mirror to look at me through it.

I shrug my dismissal of the topic, but I feel the nudge of a boot on the side of my leg and I take my extra pair of gloves out and toss them over to Eric without looking, he wasn't wearing any and I'm sure due to his vain nature he regrets it.

"Well kids, ready to go?" Max asks playfully, while peeling away from Dauntless, the vehicle skids and slides over ice precariously as he speeds through the streets and takes his turns sharply, the vehicle revs loudly as he goes faster, the speedometer arrow shoots higher.

"I'm fucking driving back." Falen snaps harshly in response to Max's chuckles, his knuckles are white as he grips the handle above his window, he is the only one wearing a seat belt.

I remove one of my gloves without thinking and cup my hand in my jacket pocket protectively.

* * *

Jeanine greets us all warmly, her watery-blue eyes bright when she takes in the four of us. Eric has not yet met requirements or the probational period so this visit is purely social, no business. Max had explicitly said _'No business, just play._ '

She asks Eric conversationally how he's enjoying his new life in Dauntless and about his leadership training. He looks bored and uninterested with talking to her and shows an obvious discomfort for being back in Erudite.

I leave the others and weave my way through the Erudite computer labs while Garret is sent to retrieve our package.

We hardly needed to all come along.

I'm not entirely sure how color will effect the fireworks but I'm not interested in interpreting the instructions that will come along with it. I'm sure they are the same as the old stock, you just light the fuse and take cover, the Dauntless in charge of entertainment can manage.

Max and Falen smoke cigarettes and talk among themselves, laughing loudly occasionally. They we're reminded not to smoke indoors by several stray Erudite but they always take it as more of a suggestion rather than a request or reprimand.

"Aerial fireworks are usually manufactured as a shell that is made up of 4. . ." Garret explains how fireworks are created to me when I find the room he is in, I hardly listen.

He works diligently without looking up, his glasses slide down his nose and he sometimes uses the back of his hand to push them back up, they slide back down almost immediately.

The clacking of computer keys blends with his Erudite babble.

The fireworks are all already prepared but Garret works on something for _me_ , when he finishes up he gives me a concerned expression, one that is not warranted, and I make room for the neatly folded photograph, paper and a small container with a syringe and vial of propofol.

We hardly have to be secretive, my intentions were made clear with Max and Falen, but my motives were not. They had given me the task willingly as part of my punishment, without me needing to request it.

"Thank you." I say and I leave the room, with one flower less and a large box of brightly colored explosives. Max takes the box from me and tosses the keys to Falen, and we say our parting pleasantries to Jeanine and her lingering curious Erudite before heading out.

Now I just have to find a ghost.

* * *

When we get back to Dauntless it's noon. The first place I go is my apartment. I unlock my door, head inside while kicking off my boots and head straight for the kitchen, retrieving the glass still in the sink and turning the faucet on to start a steady stream, filling it halfway.

The daisies are smashed and they float in the water of the too large container pitifully. Some of the soft white petals have detached but it's acceptable. I place it on my wood table. Where Eric sits comfortably _uninvited_ with his snow covered boots propped on the surface.

"So what do you want to do today?" Eric asks conversationally with his hands behind his head. I ignore him and head to the planter to retrieve the dirt covered key and unlock the door.

At the closet I retrieve a black bag and begin removing the unused unisex clothing from the hangers and a few of the very thin extra sheets, shoving them in. I stick the recent photograph of Gordon and a recent map of the dark sectors of the city into my back pocket, and place the container in my bag before shrugging my jacket off along with my gloves.

"So I actually wanted to ask. Are you the one responsible for the rising number of faction-less corpses littering the streets?" Eric asks curiously, he leans against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest watching me intently.

"No." I answer firmly, as I make my way to bedside table, sliding it away from the wall to expose the vent and use my nails to peel it off the wall and retrieve my hidden mask wrapped in a long scarf, placing them in the bag as well. He chuckles at my new hiding spot.

"We're you the one that murdered that Candor woman?" He inquires next, I sigh deeply and rub my temples. "I'm fairly sure that the night you snuck out of Dauntless was the morning they discovered her body."

"No, although I wasn't aware of that." I answer admittedly with another sigh. I contemplate bringing my gun also but I don't want Eric to know where I've stashed that and I feel that tonight may just be investigating Gordon's location. Faction-less territory is large and his streak has not been limited to one sector.

He may not be easy to find, but I am determined.

"Are you running away?" Eric asks with an amused tone, his blue-gray eyes look me over while he removes the gloves I've lent him. His lips curl up at the corners, into a sneer. "Or would you like an _alibi_?"

I stop mid closing the closet and remember the people always staying the night here, but they never wake. I should be able to make it back before sunrise. I continue shutting the closet door with a quiet click, before turning to face him.

"Won't your roommates wonder where you're sneaking off to in the dead of night?" He asks curiously.

"No one ever asks." I say firmly. "I'll be back before sunrise."

There are two days till Daunt-Fest starts, I will set a deadline.

Tonight I just need a general location to narrow my search, and tomorrow night I will find him.

I look at my watch and check the time, it is 1:04 P.M.

"Will I receive good night kisses?" He negotiates thoughtfully, but he walks over to the bed and picks the packed bag up by the straps, un-zipping it to stick the gloves in and then slinging it over his shoulder. "Coffee in the morning?" He grabs my winter jacket as well.

"No." I reply flatly while following him out into the main room. "You are not to 'drop hints' to anyone or attempt to make an obvious connection. I will deny any and all claims or allegations, if even asked I will not use your name."

"Alright, Deal." Eric says with a slight smirk and shrug, before dropping a lose key into to the vase of drowning flowers, it sinks to the bottom and clinks against the glass. "My apartment is _next door"_

I pinch the bridge of my nose and press my fingers into my eyes while grinding my teeth till my jaw protests.

* * *

"Isn't it beautiful?" Kat asks with a gasp, she had dragged me to the Pit. The large underground cavern has strings of lights hung along the edges of each inclining and downward sloping paths, making a swirl of blinking bulbs of white. Simulating the outside night sky.

"It was a bitch." Gabriel says grumpily. "A week an a half of blinking lights after several _long_ hours of hanging them up and a sprained ankle." He complains while slinging his arm over my shoulder to keep weight off of his injury, I willingly support him.

"Don't be a wuss." Joseph says. "It's just a little rain, aye, Gene?" He jokes. It has been a while since anyone has used that phrase. The others start laughing around me while for the moment I enjoy the view of the pit, ignoring their teasing and their jests.

"Well I hope it heals in 2 days." Gabriel sighs deeply. Putting his weight on me to lift his leg to expose his swollen ankle. He had fallen from a ladder one story up. "It would suck to have to hobble around while you guys are having all the fun."

"Yeah I know right? The first few days of Dauntfest is the drinking games, then there's the war games, then there's. . ." Jackie starts listing off all the things in which she wants us to participate. Kat reminds me that I have 15 minutes until work.

I had forgotten that I had work today. I check my watch and it is 3:45 P.M.

* * *

"Look, she likes you." Marlene coos tickling the infants cheek, the baby gurgles and spits, the clear saliva runs down her dimpled chin. I hold her at an arms length, my hands under her armpits secure around her tiny body.

Tiny cherubic face with red pudgy cheeks. She has chocolate brown eyes and matching curly hair. "You can hold her closer you know. Like this." Shauna demonstrates while holding another infant, using her hip with her arm around his back and bottom.

I do the same, very carefully. "They aren't that fragile." Marlene laughs when I move extremely slowly, the infant girl gurgles and smiles. "I'll go get their bottles." She says slapping my arm, my grip adjusts a fraction, her slap had _startled_ me.

"I heard you're still cycling through jobs." Shauna says conversationally, she smiles deviously. "Have you thought about- Uh- What are _you_ doing here?" She asks suddenly annoyed and distracted as she bounces the gurgling infant boy on her hip, looking past me.

I turn towards the entrance of the large nursery and to my own annoyance stands the leader in training, for some reason I hold the baby closer and angled out of his sight. Her tiny hands move around feeling the fabric of my shirt reaching for my hair and face.

"Just checking out the different facilities, getting used to the layout." Eric replies casually, he steps to the side just as a hoard of children come rushing in followed by a frantic Deidre, her short hair is mussed, eyes tired with heavy bags under them.

"They're demons." The middle aged Dauntless woman complains wiping a bit of sweat off on the back of her hand.

Shauna laughs and follows the children into the playroom she gives me a head tilt as invitation to come join her. "Hector stop hitting him right now." She demands sternly. I start after her, walking slowly as to not jostle the infant girl but Deirdre stops me for conversation.

"Aww, Felicity likes you." Deidre says to me, I blink at her, I'm in a daze in this room, my movements are stiff, calculated, and it is not because of Eric.

Marlene comes back in with a bottle. This infant is so light, much too light. I don't believe she is not fragile, I have never held something so fragile.

"Is this your first time feeding - Oh what am I saying? Of course it is." Shauna giggles returning to the now crowded room.

Eric stands at the entrance with calculating eyes, he's observing while everyone continues to ignore him. While I ignore him.

Soon I am sitting in a chair with the infant Felicity lain across my lap, propped up on my arm with the bottle in the other tilted as she hungrily devours it's creamy white contents. Deidre and Shauna enter the adjacent room and Marlene comments on getting me a burping towel. I don't know what that is.

I watch the babies face as her eyes travel around the room taking in all the sights. Her tiny hands grasp and un-grasps empty air in attempts at touching things, the bottle, my hand, my watch, my hair.

"Would you drop her?" Eric asks leaning in closely, his voice is barely above a whisper. The tone too soft for his deep voice. He comes much too close to brush a curling lock of the infants dark brown hair away from her chubby cheek.

"Leave." I answer Eric with a shooting glare before looking back down at the infant Felicity.

Eric chuckles darkly, making my blood tremble beneath the surface of my skin. "I was kidding." He says with a shrug.

Felicity just continues to eat or drink whatever this white substance is, milk probably. I should've known the moment I walked in that I am ill suited for this job, I should not have come. I will never hold another infant again. Ever.

* * *

Kat and Jackie stay up much later than I anticipated, I check my watch for the third time. It reads 12:32 A.M.

We sit on my bed in a circle while they converse animatedly about Amar planing to get the Ferris Wheel in the abandoned amusement area to move again, in time for the fireworks at the end of the week and I express some interest in it when they ask if I would help. After about another 10 minutes I stand and slide out of bed.

"Where are you going?" Jackie asks deviously when they lay down for sleep, pulling the comforters up to their chins.

She leans over to turn off the lamp while I button my pants over my pajama shorts. Kat rests her head on her arms over the pillow and smiles deviously.

"Kill someone." I answer flatly, they both start giggling uncontrollably.

Jackie turns the light back on and shoots up off the bed before bounding into the main room, returning with a brush. I plop myself onto the bed next to Kat to begin sliding my boots on and Jackie begins combing my hair out.

"Have you ever done this before?" Kat asks slyly while bouncing off the bed to my closet, she begins rifling through my identical clothing as though she will find something different. Everything is black and uniform. "Sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet a guy?"

"Yes, I have." I reply, kicking my boots into the ground, my knife is already secure, hidden within the leather lining. I tuck the length of my pants in before standing. Jackie gasps loudly before blushing profusely, her hands on her cheeks.

"That's so not fair, I'm the only one that hasn't done it yet?" She complains flopping down onto her back with her hands covering her face as she kicks her legs around petulantly, disturbing the comforters, pillows and sheets. "You guys never even told me!"

"Kissing and telling is a really bad quality, besides you aren't missing out on much, I promise you, Jackie." Kat says with a deep sigh of disappointment. "Most of the time it doesn't last long, or satisfy you. . .Seriously, it's not even _that_ great."

"It's not." I agree while accepting the plain black shirt that Kat hands me, even though it's the same as the one I have on currently. I pull my shirt off to change and they begin complaining about my choice of bra, while I slide into the fresh shirt pulling it down and tucking it into my belted pants.

"Doesn't it. . .Feel good though?" Jackie asks Kat, her face is flushed red from embarrassment as she pats her cheeks.

"Well of course it does." Kat exclaims, running a hand through her hair. "Or maybe it depends on who you're doing it with. . .Oh, Gene!" She calls out to stop me.

I'm already at the door prepared to leave, and I turn to look at the two of them sitting comfortably on my bed hugging pillows, they look as though they will not sleep tonight, Kat will probably tell Jackie all about her sexual conquests. A field in which I have no experience whatsoever.

"Tell _Eric_ we said hi."

* * *

Thanks for the reading, as usual.


	7. Chocolate Cake

When I enter Eric's apartment his living room is dark, I make out several shapes of his scarce furniture. His room is almost identical to mine with one less bedroom. I flick the light switch on before entering and shut the door quietly behind me.

My bag lay on his table with my jacket slung neatly over the back of the only chair. I proceed to shrugging my jacket on first before unzipping the bag to produce my scarf, which I wrap around my neck.

I've already informed Gus, the control room operator in charge of night shifts that I would be leaving Dauntless tonight, the route that I intend to take is through our restricted side to minimize potential discovery, he had told me to be careful and not stay out too late. He's one of the most important individuals in Dauntless, as he is always the one behind surveillance when I need him to be.

I zip my jacket up to my scarf and sling the bag onto my back. I suddenly wonder, why I am even bringing this.

"Leaving already?" Eric asks tiredly, as he enters his main room from what would be his bedroom. He stands wearing only a shirt and boxers while rubbing his sleepy blue-gray eyes before squinting at me.

Instead of answering him I make my way back to his door.

"Wait." He says sternly, I turn sharply at his demanding tone. "Where is my goodnight kiss?" He asks suggestively leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, his expression is expectant, patient and his lips turn up at the corners.

I flick the light switch off, bathing the room in darkness before opening the door and exiting, shutting it quietly behind me without locking it and start down the empty tunnel.

* * *

I sit on the vibrating cold ground of one of the trains cabs far in the corner, my scarf is pulled up over my nose and mouth and my breath keeps me warm. The only sound is the roar of the wind through the open doors on both sides and constant clicking of the train along the tracks.

My first destination is not directly into faction-less territory, it is much too large. I've decided to search between Erudite and Abnegation where I had seen several scarce traces of faction-less residing. I intend to find a stray. One that can give me a generalized location.

The Erudite building is always lit up brightly even throughout the night, I spot the tall illuminated glass tower over the other desolate dark abandoned and crumbling buildings and wait till I've gone far enough past it before standing to jump. I had come this way to get to Abnegation once, if I stay on the train for another 40 minutes I will have made it to their borders. Another hour and a half and I'd make it to the outskirts of the dark sector.

I land in the soft slush and it seeps it's way into my boots. These roads do not get plowed. It's hard to be silent when I am boot deep in white mush that crunches under foot, but I am far from concerned about being discovered this area is rarely visited by life.

I adjust my gloves and check the time on my watch. It reads dimly 1:40 A.M.

I will have to leave earlier tomorrow night.

My mask is safely in my jacket pocket along with my knife, ready if needed although I am reluctant to use it. I vaguely feel as though I should've left it behind.

I wade my way through several buildings, occasionally wiping fog and frost from glass to look in, peering in through broken windows and open doors. Some of them I enter, to check the upper levels, most staircases are crumbling and precarious but every one I search is empty, abandoned, with no trace of anyone having been here before.

After making my way through several blocks of all vacant buildings I'm alerted to the soft sound of coughing. I stop to listen and start in the direction of the noise immediately before I can lose it.

Soft snowflakes fall and brush my cheeks and dampen my clothing while I rush to follow the sounds. The crunching of snow under my boots and my silent breaths of white are the only other noise.

The building I end up at is boarded up, the broken windows covered as though the occupants have been residing here for some time. I circle around to an alley on the other side and spot a window on the second floor and decide that it may be the best chance of entering quietly. Removing boards or breaking glass could alert the residents.

I have to jump to reach the last rung of a ladder that leads to the steel staircase on the side of the building, going all the way to the roof and if it weren't for my gloves I might have slipped as the metal is cold and covered with slippery ice, it takes me a few jumps to finally get it.

At first the window won't budge but I wiggle it back and forth and soon enough it slides open, sticking from the temperature. I drop the bag silently on the ground in the empty room, it's bare with bits of trash scattered around. Then I slide a leg in and proceed to entering, I smell faint smoke mixed with stale air, as well as a putrid rotting stench.

Before I exit this first room I don my mask, and retrieve my pocket light. The scarce moonlight from the open window is not enough to work with.

The walls are cracked, paint peeling in countless areas, the floor is covered with a thick coating of dust and rubble, each step I take disturbs the long abandoned atmosphere, the long untrod-den floor creaks in protest at being awakened. Cobwebs twinkle when I shine light over them dressing the empty corners and quiet spaces.

I step lightly through the halls, pausing to check each room. The air in here is just as frigid as outside but the stench is strong even through the obstruction on my face, I find myself breathing as little as possible, starving my lungs, each swallow I take is thick down my throat.

The source of the smell seems to come from several cans of discarded spoiled food and in some rooms lay bodies, cold and blue, frozen and stripped of all clothing, the winter air has kept them from decaying.

I ignore those rooms and head to the stairwell and go down rather than up. The first floor is not easily navigated, several areas are obstructed with rubble and old moth eaten furniture, aged with countless years of neglect. Soon enough though I reach a door with faint light coming from under the frame.

Inside the room lay two faction-less men on different ends of the room covered in rags and tattered bits of discarded clothing. In between them is a small metal canister with burning embers in it, just beginning to die out.

Numerous articles of trash and other unmentionables litter the corners and around the two, creating beds of garbage, cardboard mats and scattered cans.

I step over the first one and I can tell he's already passed. His face is white and chalky, lips purple and chapped, cracking in several parts. His fingers are darkened wrapped stiffly over a corner of his makeshift blanket, curled like claws with no grip on the fabric.

"Have you. . .C-come to finish the. . .Job?" Asks a raspy weak voice, coming from the other Faction-less bundled in the same articles as the corpse.

The elderly man starts coughing, covering his mouth with a shaking fist, it is apparent in the way his fingers are also slightly darkening at the tips, and how his breaths come out in struggled huffs that he is sick and will not make it through the night.

I kneel near him, and drop my bag to the side, before sliding my mask onto the top of my head between my hair and the hood.

His dark brown eyes narrow a fraction when he views my face. "You were visited by an individual wearing a similar mask?" I ask calmly while unzipping my bag. "How long ago?" I pull out the first sheet that was stuffed on top and a small box flies out along with it, sliding across the floor.

Matches. I had not packed these matches myself.

I drape the very thin sheet over the elderly faction-less man and proceed to picking up the matchbook, and several items I can use to burn and make my way back to the small canister, feeding the embers.

"S-similar mask?" He asks and he starts to sit up, struggling, his entire body is trembling, teeth chattering. He starts hacking again, attempting to pat his sternum to stop himself. "I. . ."

"I'm searching for the man responsible for the death of two Erudite. He is also responsible for the unnatural deaths of countless of your fellow Faction-less." I explain, while using my boot to push the brightly lit canister closer to the man. "If you cooperate I can promise you a peaceful sleep."

"You mean. . .Put me out of my. . .Misery?" He laughs raspily but coughs again, his movements are lethargic and his words come out sloppy, slurred, he falls back flat gazing up at the ceiling. I pull out a shirt and roll it up to prop under his head while I rummage for the container that has the propofol and syringe. "If I tell you. . .No more faction-less. . ."

"No more faction-less will be killed." I finish for him, I pull the photograph of Gordon and tilt it for him to inspect. "When he is gone the only thing Faction-less will need to worry about is winter, starvation, old age and. . ."

"Gray quarters. . .I. . .Swear." He says simply before hacking up more coughs, his body shakes violently as he continues to cough and sputter. I produce a map and he very shakily puts a finger to a section far in the corner on the edge of faction-less territory. "H-He. . ." I notice a small plastic sheen in the corner of my bag when I tuck the map back in after making a mark on it.

Eric has packed a piece of chocolate cake.

I rub my temples and listen to the faction-less man continue to cough raucously. He is going through the stages of sickness _and_ hypothermia, he will die in his sleep.

"Would you like some cake?" I offer solemnly, while preparing the syringe, poking the needle through the rubber of the vial and tilting it, filling the glass completely with the white liquid.

He chuckles weakly but the corners of his eyes begin to water, and they become glazed as he accepts.

I help him sit up again, his limbs are stiff and he cannot move his legs at all, it takes him a great effort and I remain patient, moving the sheet around his shoulders and making sure that it does not slide off due to his shivering.

I remove my gloves, pulling them off slowly and slide them onto his cold hands, his fingers can barely move so I use meticulous care not to break any of them, pulling the leather down slowly over each one snugly, and he begins to cry, sucking in air, turning it into loud raspy sobs that echo in the empty room.

"T-thank. . .Thank y- you." He stutters, his teeth chatter and his breathing becomes rapid as he struggles to calm himself, the tears that spill from his eyes create streaks along his face, his cheeks are red, bitten by the cold.

He swallows the bits of the cake that I place between his slightly light-blue and chapped lips and he does his best to chew although he has a hard time and coughs a lot more due to how dry cake is, but he manages to get most of it down. I take out the bottle of water that I also discovered in my bag and help him drink, wiping the sides of his mouth when he is unable to retain it all.

After rolling more of the shirts I brought, I place them and help him lie back down, tucking the sheets around him. His tears are silent now and his trembling has stopped and he had thanked me again silently before falling asleep.

I check my watch and see that it is 3:56 A.M. I may end up too late to have coffee with Eric.

* * *

The water in the shower is ice against my already cold skin. I tilt my face up against the spray, letting it all cascade over me. My insides tremble and I try to imagine hypothermia, becoming so cold that you begin to feel warmth. I scrub myself roughly until my skin is pink and raw and I can't handle the smell of shampoo.

The impatient knock at the bathroom door signifies my time is up and I dry myself off before dressing in a fresh black shirt and sleep shorts, I put my watch back on and check the time. 6:21 A.M.

I stuff my previous clothing into the waste bin, the smell lingers off of them. Eric had said I smelled like shit, I did not argue, instead I went straight to the bathroom. I have more clothing, and a spare pair of gloves.

"Tired?" He asks me with a curious expression when I make my way into his living room with the towel wrapped around my wet hair. I sigh deeply and admit that I am, but I don't tell him that I haven't been able to sleep well. I won't until Gordon is dead.

"It's 6 in the morning, you know." He adds taking a sip from his cup of coffee as he hands me one of my own before taking a seat at his table. Today he is dressed appropriately, all of his tattoo's are covered, save for the ones on his neck that are exposed over the collar of his jacket.

The liquid is scorching hot and bitter on my tongue, it spreads warmth down my throat and insides quelling the trembling of my blood, spreading through my slightly stiff limbs, my numb fingers get feeling back into them, curled around the warm paper.

Eric pulls me into his lap and in a rare moment of exhausted, weakness that I would never permit myself otherwise, I lean back and into him.

He brushes his warm cheek, nose and lips into the side of my neck, breathing hot air over my shoulder with a contented sigh, but I don't feel anything particularly different from when everyone else touches me.

He presses his hand into my abdomen, to pull me against him and holds his coffee in the other. "I have leadership classes today." He says conversationally before taking another sip. This casual familiarity is unprecedented but much like with the others, Kat, Jackie and the rest it's un-effectual.

"I'm not interested in your schedule." I reply flatly, before taking my own sip. His hand travels down and rests on my thigh, I stand and place my cup on his table before returning the remaining contents back into my bag.

Eric had not asked what I had done, where I had gone or why but when he left his apartment before me, he had invited me back again tonight.

* * *

"We're you able to find Gordon?" Max asks conversationally he taps the keys at his computer with two fingers slowly, computer illiterate. His eyes squint a few times and occasionally he holds the backspace to delete a long stream of his mistakes.

"Obviously not." I reply settling in his leather guest chair. He looks over to me and scrutinizes my appearance before chuckling. My lack of injury would indicate that I've not found the deranged individual. "But I have a general location, to narrow my search."

"Excellent, it's a shame really though. Wouldn't you agree?" Max asks before leaning back in his desk chair the loud creak is hollow in the room. "He managed to cull faction-less numbers effectively and efficiently, as well as discretely and yet something changed his. . ."

"We believe he was trying to send a message by killing the Candor woman." Falen says gravely, he approaches the chair with a tablet and hands it to me. The electronic device is cold and light in my hands. "That he may _want_ someone to come after him."

The headlines read that an Abnegation woman, mother of two has been found murdered this morning along with her husband. I pinch the bridge of my nose and push my fingers into my eyes till I see red through the veiny film skin of my eyelids.

"Someone may be watching you." Max adds blowing an obscenely large amount of smoke out. The chemical smell burns my nostrils and throat before filling my lungs. "We already know _you_ are not guilty but the time frame is a little too much coincidence. Someone may be trying to incriminate you."

"It's possible Gordon still has connections to Dauntless." Falen warns putting a hand to my shoulder. "Max and I will investigate, go over surveillance, monitor comings and goings. Meanwhile it may be best to put off your hunt for a few days."

"He poses an even bigger threat then." I argue sternly. "He knows the inner workings of Dauntless, he has intensive knowledge into plans, history, almost _everything_. If it so happens that I am to be tried for those murders then so be it, I will take death, but I will deliver it to him _first_."

This is exactly the reason why he should have been executed long ago.

Max laughs heartily at my declaration. "Seems like you have a personal vendetta." He says slyly, before puffing his cigarette, the red flares up consuming the paper as he inhales the toxins. "It's not good to harbor a grudge."

"I've never _wanted_ to kill anyone before." I reply calmly, smoothing down the hem of the black sweater Kat lent me, Falen squeezes my shoulder reassuringly. Gordon is _his_ blood. "It is not a grudge, but an obligation." I look over the news report again and it sends a thick almost painful sensation through my veins. No one can see how close I am to snapping the tablet in half.

"Be careful Genesis, he's likely to be expecting you." Falen says with a voice filled with genuine concern, his hazel eyes are soft matching with his short light brown hair. Max nods his head sagely, and for once they both look much older than they actually are.

"In the next week we will let go of the past year, _starting_ with Gordon." I say firmly, dropping the tablet onto Max's desk. I am talking mainly to Falen but they both laugh and agree with me. I've got a deadline to meet and if he's waiting for me then it should be easier to find him.

* * *

"So." Kat says slyly nudging me with her elbow, her green eyes narrow deviously, her hair is now purple. I vaguely wonder at what time during the night they had done her hair. "How was it?"

Jackie giggles and continues to eat a sandwich, picking bits of greens out. "I thought there was a rule about kissing and telling." She says loyally giving me a wink. I take a sip of the soda Amar gave me at the start of lunch before bounding out with Bud to find a suitable power source with enough energy to power the 1000 ton Ferris Wheel. He had managed to get volunteers to help clear frost and years of neglect off of it as well. He claims that one day it will be used _'Every fricken' day'_.

"Oh come on we know who it was already." Kat says impatiently rolling her eyes, she takes my hand in her warm grasp and gives me a pleading expression. "I noticed that he isn't around though. . .And he used to like, stalk you." She says looking around the cafeteria. "He's not one of those hit it and quit it types is he?"

I shrug complacently. "We are not exclusive."

"Aww I thought it would be like a secret romance or forbidden love." Jackie says swooning, Kat tries to pry details of my night from me and Jackie starts tickling her. "Dude the point of a secret is to keep it." She says sternly and jabs her in the gut. I continue to sip my soda and appreciate Jackie's loyalty.

"What secret?" Gabriel asks while sliding into the bench his ankle is still bothering him. Joseph follows along, as well as Zeke.

"Nothing." Kat sighs deeply with disappointment. "Well Gene did set a new record for fastest job quitting." she adds perking up again, the others start laughing while I focus running my fingers over the precipitation on the can, coating my fingertips with water.

"What is your next job Genie Weenie?" Joseph asks playfully while ruffling my hair. I did not realize I had gotten a new nickname.

"Surveillance." I reply flatly, waving his hand away from my hair.

"No way that's awesome!" Zeke exclaims before expressing his excitement over having another person to ' _hang out_ ' with in the control room because it's so _boring_. "Oh, I almost forgot did you guys hear about the fire?" He asks bouncing in his seat. It is obvious of his relation to Uriah.

"Oh my gosh what fire?" Jackie asks, becoming completely interested. Everyone leans toward Zeke as he pauses for suspense, he takes my drink and gulps down the rest of it before handing me an empty can and they pester him to continue, with palpable impatience.

I press my elbow into the table and rest my cheek in my palm to listen, showing interest.

"One of the buildings a few miles from Erudite burned down, like. . .To the ground. You can still see the smoke from here if you guys want to go look outside." Zeke explains with excitement. "It's still burning but because it's snowing, damage control isn't going out there, Amar told me that the weather should put it out."

They make plans to head outdoors for a snowball fight and watch the pillar of smoke. The wisps of silver-gray, curling and dancing through the hazy winter air, shifting like ghosts in the breeze, climbing higher into the clouds of the dark overcast sky.

It felt wrong in a way, to let them all stay trapped in frozen bodies, lonely and abandoned.

* * *

Four teaches me how to use his console, even though I already have experience. He hands me earphones that I slide onto my head and shows me the levers that adjust volume and how to switch through the feeds.

Gus handles the important camera's in Dauntless while his employees handle the training, recreational and civilian areas.

Four types in his codes to pull up some footage and together we watch people going through ordinary everyday life. Dauntless sitting and eating in the cafeteria, everyone outside playing in the snow at the entrance to Dauntless, people training and mock fighting in the pits. Even through the lenses of the camera the Pit looks ethereal and glittery with the blinking lights.

"Why did you leave during the leadership course introduction?" Four asks suddenly, with a curious tone. It has been a long while since that day where they passed out the info sheets and I stood up and walked out after filling out just my name.

I blink at him and remove the headphones, there was no sound because we had not isolated a particular screen, all the earphones did was muffle his voice and keep heat on my ears.

Four leans back in his chair and grips his legs comfortably. His hair is a little longer, dark brown with matching dark brown eyes. His face is a little more pronounced, sharper, he no longer looks Abnegation.

"I don't really want to be a leader, leader." I respond with honesty before relaxing into my own chair. I had only really expressed this to Amar. I do several Leader responsibilities but I'm not a good _face_ for Dauntless.

I glance back over at the console screen at the far corner where I can see the outside, at the Ferris Wheel in the distance on the back side of Dauntless.

Gus had already given me codes to look through all the footage stored up from the very first time I left Dauntless to sneak into Abnegation, around the time of the first murder this year.

I've elected to watching the current screens during my first day at work here and then tethering a connection to a tablet I was lent by Falen to watch the remaining weeks when I don't have company. I have a day to look through more than one month, weeks, days, hours, minutes.

"Neither did I." Four admits with a sigh. "When Max had first approached me with his 'offer' I wasn't really in a position to decline, or well. . .He didn't really give me an option."

"He is a bit pushy." I reply, with a slow nod. Max has always been an enthusiast. I realize we've been dwindling in numbers and Falen is getting older but that's no reason to try and influence a decision. Four was impressive but skill doesn't determine preferences.

During leader ship courses they look for an individual with the most potential and enthusiasm for our faction and the future, but even then we won't disclose anything this time. We will take a vote and I will vote against.

"Yeah but he was actually really understanding." Four says with a thoughtful expression. "He respected my decision to become an instructor, even though it's seasonal work and even my request for a job here in the control room."

I nod my head listening intently.

"You'd be a good instructor. Shauna told me you helped her win her fight against Ash." I say turning in the chair. I look over at Gus who is faced away from us with earphones on, I know that he is asleep from the way his breathing is loud and an occasional snore sounds, where he stirs and grunts loudly.

"Thanks." Four chuckles uncomfortably at my compliment. "I'm actually really looking forward to it."

"I'm not." I admit with a deep sigh, leaning all the way back into the cold leather.

"It won't be too bad, i'm sure." Four says reassuringly. "you'll have all your friends."


	8. Deadline

I watch 4 screens at once in full speed on the small tablet, event's progressing before me quicker than I could really follow but I had much to go through. There was no suspicious behaviors from anyone that I held as a potential culprit, my investigations are proving fruitless. Even if I wanted to find anything incriminating it would all have been taken care of by Gus previously because that is what he does.

Dauntless is as normal as ever.

A pillow props me up and my elbows are stiff and raw from laying in this position for the past 3 hours. I check my watch and it reads 7:24 P.M. I rub my temples and then lay flat on my back, my bed is far too comfortable.

The knock on my door is sharp and loud but I make no move to unlock it, instead I stare at the concrete ceiling.

"Geeeeene." Complains Amar through the thick door. "Let's go to the lounge ya loser."

"No. I don't want to." I reply firmly, curling my fingers into the soft sheets, I sit up immediately because they are far too soft and get out of my bed, I hadn't taken my boots off and left some dirty scuff marks on the white. I wouldn't normally forget to remove them.

The sounds of the door handle being rattled violently start as well as dull thumps from where he kicks his boots against the door frame. "It's not a request, now get your ass up and let's go." He says with a playful harshness as I strip the sheets off the bed and roll them into a ball to drop on the floor.

"I'm coming." I reply with a sigh before deleting my lack of notes off the tablet, logging out of the system and shoving it between the mattress and box spring.

"That's right you are." He says impatiently, but the door rattling stops.

* * *

"One more day until Dauntfest!" Zeke cheers loudly in the dimly lit but overly crowded lounge. The lights flash and change colors in rapid succession while the array of electronic noises sound throughout the room from expertly placed speakers.

"You haven't come out to see the progress we made on the wheel." Amar complains shoving me further into the booth to make room for Tori. Kat and Jackie hang out near the bar area flirting with random Dauntless guys, several of them back from the wall to celebrate Dauntfest.

"Yeah, you should come sometime tomorrow, I mean we're far from done but it's been fun." Says Joseph, he tells me about how they've managed to take care of all the loose bolts and make it mostly safe other than the fact that it's frosty.

"I've got to say, I think it might actually work." Tori says with a complimenting tone before sliding Amar a beer. "Although its been really annoying running the shop without you, baldy." Bud starts laughing heartily rubbing his head uncomfortably, with a slight blush over his face.

They start talking about the upcoming festivities, it's all anyone talks about during these months. I check my watch a few times inconspicuously, disguising it as occasional yawns, a few of them are real.

At around 9:45 P.M. I spot Eric, lounging near the bar with Lauren, she's been instructing them on computer use, having been an Erudite transfer from a year ago, I take it that they might have known each other.

They talk animatedly and he laughs a few times while Lauren occasionally playfully slaps at him, her black and purple hair changes colors under the lights and glints off her many piercings.

Kat takes my attention and gives me raised brows while jerking her head at them, motioning for me to possibly cut in.

I excuse myself, telling everyone that I'm tired and Amar lets me slide out of the booth while whining about how we never spend time together, everyone sitting around is already inebriated and he becomes distracted immediately by a game of bouncing caps into a bowl of nuts.

Kat and Jackie both frown at me from across the room when I make my way to the exit instead of interrupting Eric's conversation.

* * *

My bag is already packed and on his table along with a thicker winter jacket hung over the same chair but next to the bag is a note.

It tells me that I should probably not come back to his room tonight or in the morning and is signed neatly with his name, Eric, along with a p.s.

 _'If you think I'm trying to make you jealous, I am._ '

I shrug my bag on over the jacket, zipped all the way to my chin, over the scarf and prepare to head out.

There are much more important things than Eric's childish attempts at spurring some emotional or physical response from me. I don't need to concern myself with things or people like this.

I leave Eric's room key on the note before turning his light off.

* * *

The snow comes down in heavy torrents and it effects my vision sorely. The wind whips and stings my eyes and several times I have to hold my hood down to keep it from flying off. The streets are dark and desolate and I passingly wonder of a time when the broken streetlights worked to illuminate to roads at night.

When I've reached the borders of faction-less territory I crouch near an abandoned vehicle with no wheels, or windows and check my map. A GPS would have been more useful but in the event that I should get caught it would be rather helpful to them, I had left my gun as well. Instead I brought knives.

In the distance I spot large dark shapes but the swirling white and strong winds make it hard to make out what each one is. I squint and shine my light over the map once more. I had been walking for over an hour away from the train tracks where I had disembarked, and I made sure to head in a straight line taking stock of familiar landmarks. To get lost in unknown territory would be humiliating.

I check my watch for a second letting the frigid air touch my wrist. It reads 12:01 A.M. midnight. I have an adequate amount of time and if not, so be it.

After crunching along over the white blanketed streets for a while longer I find myself in front of a large pillared building across a long stretch of space between the rest of the city. I notice several metal barrels between pillars producing light, indicating that it is occupied.

Around parts of lawn area stand chest high sheets of steel, rusted and welded, placed haphazardly in a circle, surrounding the area like a fence with barbed wires spun over the tops as well as a single tall precariously made wooden structure that look similar to a guard tower.

There is not a person in sight.

The first thing I do is enter the building closest to me, pulling the stuck door open and closing it behind me. I check my map and although I am fairly sure that I am in the right place it would help to be absolutely certain of my current location. I search the ground floor of this building until I find a suitable metal bar.

Once outside again I make my way closer to the makeshift wall and poke the bar into the snow along the ground before taking steps. It seems to be a little overly cautious but I have never infiltrated a faction-less nest. I've never been in faction-less territory. I can honestly say that I have never encountered traps before but I do not want to be caught unaware.

When I finally find a hole in the fence in the form of displaced metal sheets that create a small crawlspace I kneel and bend the metal until I can successfully fit and shove my bag through before lowering myself down onto the cold snow to enter myself.

I continue to check the ground with my bar while slowly approaching the side of the large cream colored building, the crunch and slush of snow under my boots urges me to move slower. There is no noise, no sound save for the quiet crackling of wood burning in the rusted metal barrels and strong whistling wind. I start up the steps of the building passing several large windows all boarded up.

I realize that I shouldn't go through the front door but I allow myself this one carelessness because my impatience and the cold are starting to seep through. I don my mask and very slowly turn the handle of one of the large faded, red, paint peeling door and push it open, sliding between the space.

The lobby of the building is large and spacious, several holes in the ceiling make way for soft light to illuminate through as well as stray snowflakes. I take a short moment to appreciate the scene, and the large crystal object broken and hung precariously above it all reflects the orange and yellow lights from candles lit and several burning barrels.

Still no faction-less.

Across the room is a large staircase that leads up to a balcony that rounds the room but to the left and right are long hallways with numerous amounts of doors. The ground is soft, carpeted but old and stained in numerous places.

When I hear the sounds of hasty footsteps I duck into the first dark room I come near, pressing myself against the cold wall, I curl my gloved fingers around the knife handle.

The footsteps become loud and then receed as though they've entered a different room. At first I contemplate following them but instead I glance around the room I've ducked into. It is large, very large, much like the choosing ceremony room at the hub with rows and rows of seating. I click my pocket light on and hold it up with my free hand and make my way down the walkway.

All the way in the very front where all the chairs face is a wooden stage. The wall behind it is black and bare and I vaguely wonder if there should have been something there.

Sitting slouched in some of the seats are several bodies, still clothed but very much lifeless.

I sigh deeply, filling my mask with hot air. A woman, a man and several others sit organized as though they died watching a show. The cause of death is not apparent on the first few that I inspect, no wounds or discoloration.

I spot one body that wears a mask similar to mine and hurriedly approach it. I carefully remove it from the body, holding my light and knife in one hand but underneath it to my disappointment is the blank lifeless eyes of a faction-less man I have never met.

The state of this body suggests that he was not dead long. This particular one has a long gash along his neck, the jagged edges are still red rather than black but the blood that spilled from the wound is long dried to his paling skin and stiff clothing.

Perhaps this is a clue. Or "bread crumbs." Or maybe even a threat.

He knew I would come, it's like he's been calling me.

I place my blade into my pocket and kneel, dropping my bag on the ground before sliding my mask onto my head between my hair and hood, biting my pocket light between my teeth to shine light and rummage for the syringe and propofol, preparing a needle before leaving this room and heading in the direction the footsteps went. I stop and press myself against the wall next to a door at the end, straining to hear into the room.

The footsteps come, heavy and fast. When the man exits the door he turns away from the direction I stand and starts down the hall.

I immediately reach around to cover his mouth and stick the needle into his neck, pressing the plunger to inject about half of the white liquid into his system. The effects of the drug are immediate. It is fast-acting and works by slowing the brains wave activities.

In mere seconds he falls backwards, I grunt from his weight but for someone taller he is unusually light. I drag him backwards towards the room with bodies. It takes some effort to sit him in a chair and I check his pulse several times, I had not accurately measured the dose but he seems to be fine, steady heartbeat.

I wrap him tightly in a sheet and pull the hood of his light jacket over his head. He should wake up in the morning.

For a faction-less he seems to be well dressed, wearing only Abnegation gray, properly attired for warmth. His face is sallow, cheeks sunken in, but his cheekbones are prominent, protruding out with dark circles under his eyes.

I have a sinking feeling that this particular boy is not faction-less. That he could possibly be Abnegation.

* * *

I glance impatiently at my watch several times while pacing back and forth or full circle around the room between the rows of chairs

The time reads 2:26 A.M. and I have already scoured several other areas of the large building. There were 6 rooms all the same, with rows and rows of seating and stages. This entire building has an ethereal timeless feeling to it, everything decaying in slow procession, abandoned unused.

The walls are worn, weary, devoid of all light with little hope of being restored to its former glory, the wallpaper with intricate designs fades to almost nothing, peeling and crumbling away. The ground creaks loudly and an occasional soft groan of the outside wind makes it's way inside to disturb the eerie silence.

I had found my way to a door with a faded placard that read basement but it was locked by large rusted chains and I had no means to open it. I also discovered several small rooms with large black machines with spinning wheels that have long stopped working. All around are the artifact of a life lived and hastily abandoned.

I check on the boy again at 3 and he is still sleeping, his heart rate is steady and strong and he manages to retain warmth well enough to be left alone, but I add another sheet that I had found within the building and I moved him out of sight.

When I exit the room I notice movement to my left and before I can react I am struck with blunt force and again when I hit the ground. The last thing I see are boots and glittering lights before darkness.

* * *

I jerk back into consciousness, alert instantly. My eyes wide as I scan the room quickly before any head injuries can effect my vision. The first thing I notice are the chairs around me before my vision begins to blur as a dull ache spreads from the back of my skull.

My mouth feels thick as though I've awaken from a long slumber. I blink several times forcing my heavy eyelids apart to disperse the spots and fog from my eyes and re scan my surroundings. I sit with my wrists bound behind my back in a wooden chair directly in the middle of the nearly empty room, surrounded by other meticulously spaced out chairs, all of which are also occupied by people wearing similar masks to the one I still have on my face.

My breathing intensifies, filling my face with hot air as I make the comparison, the only difference between them and I, is that they are all _dead_.

Slumped forward or propped back against the wooden backrests, their exposed skin pale and far too white, some of their eyes peer out through the eye holes dull lifeless and unblinking, this is a scare tactic. I calm my breathing and steady the thumping in my chest.

The rope around my wrists burn and cut into my skin as I try to twist out of them in an attempt to free myself. My gloves are still on but my watch is gone, as is my jacket but the air in the room is warm with heat from two burning barrels. I rock forward and pull the chair with me to stand and find that whoever tied me up did not tie me directly to the chair, I slide right off the backrest and pull my arms under me, sliding my legs through to maneuver my hands to the front.

I search the room for a weapon or anything sharp while using my teeth to chew through some of the rope but when I find none, I walk over to one of the barrels and start throwing numerous amounts of flammable objects in to raise a flame and burn the rope off vaguely appreciating that my gloves protect my skin from the heat.

When Gordon enters the room he is _not_ wearing a mask. My breath catches for a second when his hazel eyes take in the scene before him and his head tilts, casting dark menacing shadows over his features as his lips spread into a wicked grin, exposing rows of straight white teeth.

The first thing that happens is the sharp bite into my shoulder where the first throwing knife lodges itself. I fall forward onto my hands and knees while gritting my teeth to stop the noise from escaping my lips, using everything inside me to swallow the scream back down my throat.

* * *

Gordon stalks up the the circle of chairs and shoves the first masked body out of one. It falls with a loud thud to the ground as he drags the chair up, turning it around and sitting with his arms crossed over the back and his chin rested on top. Mere inches away from me with the same wicked smile.

I try not to tense as the hot trickle of liquid makes it way down my arm and side. If removed the flow of blood would intensify, a trickle would become a flood.

"Did they hurt you?" Gordon asks with a frown as he gestures to the lifeless corpses with a second knife. Orange and yellow glints off the metal threateningly as it reflects the light of the burning barrels when he uses it to point to each one. "You can tell me if they did."

I don't answer or move and he very carefully and slowly lifts the mask off my face with the end of his blade before yanking it off and tossing it to the side, pressing the cold blade to my cheek. I swallow thickly involuntarily, and his eyes notice.

"Could it be that you remember my knives?" He asks curiously with a pout, I don't answer and try to focus on anything other than the pain that spreads like fire across my chest, burning liquid being poured into my body. I resist pulling the knife out. "Well, they certainly remember you. They _missed_ you. _I've_ missed you." He insists.

He slouches and his brows knit together under his sandy brown hair. "See now I don't know what I'm going to do." He complains, running a frantic hand through his hair. "I'm just so. . . _happy._ " His face contorts into a momentary grimace.

I swallow thickly again when leans over to tap the handle of the blade in my shoulder sending a another sharp electrical pain shooting through my system, effectively creating bright spots across my vision. He was always the best at knife throwing and I was _always_ an 'accidental' target.

"Do you have contacts within Dauntless?" Is the first question that I ask. It is the first one that rises and forces it's way through my clenched teeth.

Gordon laughs. "You guys are _so paranoid_." He says with an eye roll. "I don't though, really. I've just been. . .Close by." He admits with a shrug and a chuckle. "Damn though, you are as fearless as ever. Your first time in faction-less territory and you just breeze on in here like. . .Have you really not noticed me following you around? I started a while after Reid. . . _Died._ "

"Why?" I demand harshly.

"Because I chose _you_." He admits with a sigh. "Let me explain. . .I wanted you to be the one to execute me. That day, Falen was supposed to vote _against_ but he took that away from me by 'Trying to be merciful to his son'. Then I ended up knee deep in faction-less filth and I thought. . .Why not clean the city up? Why not help _you_? I mean. . .After Reid became a traitor I started making sure all her targets died. All the ones she snuck into faction-less. . .I continued to work tirelessly."

"Don't say that you did any of this for _me_." I scoff, the action makes my wound throb, the realization that all this needless death around me is _my_ fault is dizzying, or it may be the slow trickling blood loss. Surely I am not responsible for creating a monster.

"Don't interrupt me." Gordon says flatly. "Anyway I finally just. . .Got tired of it all and decided it was time I got what I deserved, what I've wanted all this time so I forced your hand. . .Didn't I? I mean you really want to kill me now right?"

A lot of his babbling makes no sense to me, his actions are twitchy, his eyes are too wide and bright and his smile is much too wicked. I feel that he is responsible for all the bodies in this building and my mind vaguely travels back to the sleeping boy hidden under scores of faction-less clothing and cardboard.

I swallow thickly when he stands and begins walking in a circle around me tapping the knife against his chin, his eyes narrow and become calculating. "Okay, okay, I've decided on. . ." He says tilting his head from side to side before producing a gun from his back pockets, he stabs his knife into one of the masked corpses before pressing the cold barrel of the gun to my forehead and curls his finger around the trigger. "I'll give you two options."

I glare up at him while he continues to smile wickedly, at first I thought he was going to just let me kill him.

"One, you go back to Dauntless and kill _Falen_ in my stead, since he was obviously too much of a coward to come himself _AND_ for voting to let me live." He says raising his voice as though Falen could hear him. "Then you can come back and I'll _let_ you kill me. . .Or you could kill me first and then kill Falen. . .Hmm."

My blood starts to tremble under the surface of my skin making me hyper aware of every corner of my body adding an intense, harsh emphasis to the foreign object protruding from my shoulder.

Gordon is completely psychotic.

"Or option number two I just have my way with your dead body." He says casually with a shrug. "I can always kill _myself_ anyway."

"Option number 3." I state flatly. Although option 3 to me is just to kill him and forget about this nightmare, leave him in the past where he belongs. No more faction-less dying, no more danger in the streets, a safer city.

Gordon starts laughing raucously and points the gun at a faction-less corpse and fires once. The sound is soft and quick, muffled, the gun is silenced. The masked corpse moves only slightly to fall out of the chair and a pool of blood begins to form around it.

I use his momentary psychotic distraction and lunge forward using my un-wounded shoulder colliding into Gordon and send us both tumbling into the chairs, knocking over the lifeless occupants. The gun flies out of his hand and scatters across the floor.

He shoves me off him violently, sending me on my side, the knife gets pushed further in when my shoulder hits the ground almost sending me into unconsciousness when a flash of sharp pain crosses my vision. The pressure forces my flesh to contract around the blade embedded in me.

I scramble for the gun pushing off the ground, ignoring the searing pains that shoot through my veins, spreading like hands pulling every nerve to shreds and out of one part of my body. Gordon flails, lashing out at me to get to it first while shoving bodies and chairs away in a fit of rage, his hazel eyes bright and excited. He is much closer to it.

I suck in a sharp breath, filling my lungs and holding it as I curl my fingers around the handle of the knife and yank it out. Gordon's head snaps back to me just moments away from reaching the gun and he lunges for me instead, sending us tumbling back to the ground where he slams my hands down to relinquish my hold on the weapon. The knife clatters away just out of reach.

He screams at me chomping his teeth inches from my face with spit flying out like a rabid animal, my fist connects with his jaw and he becomes dazed for a second, I press my boot between us and kick him away using the force to propel myself across the ground towards the knife, curling my fingers around it as he grips my clothing, clawing at me to pull me back, his nails dig into my flesh.

I remove my gloves and throw them anywhere and lay there for a moment before closing my eyes and searching through the darkness behind my eyelids, letting the noises flood out again as I strain my ears to listen inwardly.

To hear if Charles has finally stopped crying.


	9. Snow

Gordon - Rhys Wakefield the smiling guy from **The Purge**.

* * *

When I open my eyes the first thing I see are the dark shadows being cast across the concrete ceiling, there is little of the dark gray sky filtering through the holes in it and soft snowflakes drift slowly downward spiraling through the cold air.

The large crystal ceiling object indicates that I am in the lobby now, _someone_ has moved me.

My body is cold, stiff. My shoulder is weighed down by a large amount of frigid white slush. Snow.

I lick my dry lips and weakly turn my head to see my surroundings as well as take stock of the aches and pains throughout my body. My lungs burn and my head is throbbing, I close my eyes again to the warmth of child's laughter but I can feel every part of me and it keeps me from joining.

"Hey, wake up." Says a male voice filled with concern. My eyes snap open and I turn my head to see the boy dressed in Abnegation clothing. "I uhm. . .Don't think it's safe for you to go to sleep again, unless you _didn't_ hit your head." He admits, while pushing the snow off my shoulder. It's numb from the freezing cold.

He had assumed I was a victim that survived.

"What time is it?" I croak, my voice comes through dry and scratchy and I swallow thickly. If he is awake it must be morning or close to it, possibly later based on the administered dose.

"It's 5 A.M." He answers while piling a new amount of snow from a canister onto my already completely numb shoulder. I vaguely smell burning wood and charcoal, and the feel of blankets over my lower half. I am still fully clothed but the fabric is stiff and cold.

"My bag." I say and he looks confused at first until I describe it to him. He nods his head and disappears for a moment then returns with it, handing it to me politely. I sit up slowly with his assistance and brush the snow off of me, ignoring the protest of my cold limbs and dull pain starting up from the wound. "Why are you here?" I ask immediately, I know he is Abnegation.

"My brother. . .I came to find. . .Him." He replies while rubbing his neck uncomfortably, I notice the injection site. His dark brown eyes begin to water, the corners filling with sparkling tears he covers his face for a moment and takes a deep breath. I take it that he found him somewhere in this building. "He left. . .Abnegation to become faction-less. . .And I. . ."

He explains how he had located a few faction-less residing in the outskirts of Abnegation and in exchange for food and clothing they pointed him in the direction that his brother had gone and he found this place, he also tells me how when he was searching the building someone had ' _knocked him out_ '. I had suspected right, he and his brother are the orphaned children of the recent Abnegation murder.

His name is Todd, he is 16, he and his brother had just finished Abnegation's initiation.

I sigh deeply, while unzipping my bag to take out the shirts, matches, spare knife, some gauze and the water. I leave everything else in it and toss it into one of the still burning barrels. He adverts his gaze when I begin peeling the sweater off of myself, gently removing the bits of fabric sticking to my wound. I hardly care about my undergarments, they will not be visible.

It hurts, but it's a dull pain, and I thank him for the snow he had applied, he had actually saved my life but I do not thank him for that. I uncap the water bottle and pour freezing cold water over it to wash the blood off and he hands the gauze to me, attempting to be helpful. I begin shoving them into the wound to stop further bleeding and keep till I get proper first aid.

While I work to clean the blood off my arm and torso he tells me how he found the body of the murderer, having recognized his face somehow without a mask on. I vaguely wonder if Gordon had exposed himself purposely to divulge his identity, bring people to his lair.

Todd explains that _someone_ had put a stop to him. I don't confess to being the one who did, as he continues to treat me like a victim, reassuring me over and over that I'm safe now. I presume it's because I'm a _girl_.

When I tell him that he should return to Abnegation he gives me a bewildered expression. "I'm not going back." He says, before insisting that he _belongs_ in faction-less now, he wants to help them recover from the horrible events and after what he's seen he feels he can never be Abnegation.

It may be best, Abnegation don't do what he did, run away and go into dangerous territory, but then, most of them don't go through what he did.

The ends of my hair are stained and won't wash off so he offers to cut it for me with my pocket knife after hearing my exhausted sigh and watching me attempt to do it myself. "What made _you_ come here?" Todd asks while taking more than an inch off. "You don't look like a faction-less. . ."

"I'm not." I admit, tying my hair back tightly. "I came to find someone too." I add with a deep sigh. "I found him though."

Todd apologizes for my non-existent loss and then he attempts to talk me into going back to Dauntless, convinced that I am the same as him, but he indeed uses words like 'unsafe for a _girl_.'

I pull one of the clean black shirts over my head and look myself over, I look appropriate enough, no one would be able to tell right away, although my temperature is beginning to elevate, a fever is taking hold of my body and I am slightly light headed due to lack of sleep and blood loss.

* * *

Todd finds my jacket and watch and he tells me that I should head back to Dauntless before I get in trouble and my condition worsens, he does not know who I am, or what my name is, and he doesn't ask so I don't tell him. I appreciate when he says he won't tell anyone that I was here, that a Dauntless girl was in faction-less territory.

When I ask him why _he_ want's to stay in this place, he tells me that he doesn't want to leave them all here alone and abandoned. Even faction-less deserve a proper send off. I do my best to help him although I am slow, and soon the air is filled with the stench of burning flesh as we cremate the corpses of faction-less. The smell wafts through every corner of the giant building disturbing the stillness, haunting the rows of empty seating in which they had last sat.

"You should get back to Dauntless." He says again and we aren't even near finished yet. I haven't gone back into the room with Gordon's body in it. "It's almost 6, you said you snuck out right?"

I admit that the time may be cutting it close but that I could possibly concoct a believable excuse if asked, although I'm unsure what just yet. My thoughts come hazy and slower, the hotter my skin becomes, he notices and I assure him that he does _not_ have to _help_ me get back to Dauntless.

"Will you be alright in faction-less?" I ask him, while pulling my hood over my hair. I decide to leave the matches and the extra shirt and I passingly regret not bringing more articles of clothing or sheets, but after today I will probably never see him again anyway.

"Yeah, I know a lot of them." Todd admits. "I mean, I _was_ Abnegation." He chuckles but his dark brown eyes are dull and sad, occasionally they water up and he cries silently to himself, his shoulders shake and his lip trembles. "At least. . .It's over now." He adds kicking at the ground sucking in air to steady himself. ". . .No more will have to lose their parent's, or brothers, or sisters, and the ones that we're lost. . .They're in a better place."

He pats my head awkwardly with bloodshot eyes, telling me to be careful and even zips my jacket up to my chin for me before I leave out the red, paint peeled, doors.

When I gaze up at the dark overcast sky, snowflakes fall and lightly peck my burning cheeks, melting instantly, creating silent streaks down my skin, I vaguely imagine what it would feel like to blink away _real_ tears. To see the world through them.

It's not hard to imagine, during the winter times, when it is always hard to see, and snowflakes never stop falling but I can't quite simulate what I'm supposed to _feel_ on the inside, the way people tremble, the way they breathe when overcome with grief, the way they _move._

When it happens to me, will it be winter?

I take a deep breath filling my lungs with the sharp, crisp, coldness, burning my throat and lungs, it hurts physically but like all pain it is always fleeting. _Timed_. I check my watch and twist it around my wrist, before heading back towards the city.

* * *

At 8:24 A.M I arrive back at Dauntless and several morning people greet me, I greet them back with as much effort as I can manage, forcing myself into an appropriate calm and casual countenance but my face must be red and flushed from the fever that has begun to effect me.

My vision blurs sometimes and I sway, my skin is burning hot and I am not sure how much further I can walk before collapsing. I could pass for having gone on a morning run.

Max takes one look at me from behind his desk before jumping up with a wide spread grin. His lit cigarette continues to smoke and burn but on the cement ground, I find myself almost unsure how I got to his office, Falen's office was located much closer to the entrances.

* * *

I sit leaned back against the leather chair while the tugging at my shoulder continues. Between my teeth is a leather belt and I bite down each time the needle slides sharply into my skin and pulls my flesh together even though it's been a while since it hurt, I still expect it and prepare for it.

Max works with meticulous care with brows furrowed in concentration, his hands work quickly and skillfully. It's the first time that he's sewn me up as the job used to be done by another.

Falen sips alcohol from a cup while talking about today's agenda and when Max finishes up he pours it over my wound and I bite down even harder and clutch the arm rests, digging my nails into the leather to keep myself from screaming when the searing pains start spreading through every corner of my body.

They both laugh and slap me on the back, on the same shoulder and congratulate me as I take a gulp of the deep yellow liquid myself.

They express their relief over everything I tell them, about the conversation I had with Gordon and Falen shows extreme humiliation at how 'fucked up' his genes are, he claims they came from his 'wife.' Her name was Mel, I hardly remember the woman.

They laugh more and I feel sick.

My skin is scorching hot and my eye lids are heavy, several times I swallow back down a bit of burning bile as my mind begins flashing through the events of last night, the scenes, smells, pain, everything before I can safely let it fade away.

Apparently their investigations proved fruitless as well but they mentioned that they noticed me going into Eric's apartment a few times and they tease me because surveillance doesn't show me _leaving_ his room right afterwards. They share a drink and toast to Gordon and go on to talk about Amar's Ferris Wheel and an upcoming end of the year conference.

To be safe and sure that there is no leak however I am not to do anything suspicious during the week and we are to continue to monitor activity within Dauntless, the murders will stop and everything will go back to _routine_.

"To another successful year." Max exclaims while lighting up another cigarette. My head lolls to the side and I think I may have dozed for a second, or, I do not know for how long but my eyes snap open when the loud knocking at the door starts.

"Yes?" Falen asks, peeking through the crack in the door while I pull my shirt back over my head and my slightly shorter hair through the neck hole. Max offers me a cigarette and I refuse while standing unsteadily, to head to my apartment and shower before getting some long awaited sleep.

"Actually, Gene is right here."

* * *

"Almost done?" Eric's muffled voice asks flatly while knocking on the door to my bathroom for the 3rd time, his annoyance is palpable and thick even through the obstruction.

I lean with all my weight into the tiled wall while cold water washes over me. My stitches sting immensely and soon I find myself sitting on the ground watching the dirty water swirl down the drain, it doesn't take long for it to become clear but it's never going to be clear _enough._

After I dry myself off I leave my watch on the counter after checking the time. 10 A.M. Then I throw the rest of my clothing into the waste bin before securing it to my wrist. I'll have to acquire new winter gloves and possibly a new sweater for Kat.

* * *

I lay flat on my back staring at the ceiling with my head sunken into a soft pillow wearing my sleep pants and a sports bra and Eric has not left yet. He lays on his side and inspects the markings on my abdomen and sides where nails had scraped against me, clawed into me, marks of violence. He tries to fit his fingers into each one.

He expresses his distaste for how I had cut my hair, and about how I was _late_ this morning, and he tells me about how eventful _his_ night was. He also goes on to tell me about how _soft_ Lauren is, and how _nice_ she is.

I check my watch, it reads 10:34 A.M and I vaguely wonder why he is _still_ here, although I don't complain or say anything about it.

I let him gently prod my stitches and brush his fingers against each string as though he's strumming them. His blue-gray eyes inspect every inch of my bare skin calculatingly, the scrapes, cuts, bruises as though he is assessing my condition and before long I turn over and press my cheek into my too soft pillow and he curls himself around me, radiating heat as he brushes over my neck and ear with his lips.

Soon enough I get warm and comfortable, and I fall into a dream-filled sleep.

* * *

"Are you going to sleep _all_ day?" Eric mumbles into my slightly damn hair, his tone is annoyed, impatient. "It's almost 12."

"Then I have gotten an _hour_ of sleep." I say through gritted teeth as his cold thumb rubs circles into my skin slowly from my hip to the hem of my bra, I feel his boots with my bare feet when he slides his clothed leg between mine. "Get out of my bed."

The use of my voice is spurred on by his rude awakening, although I feel fairly well rested. An acute awareness of every part of my burning body and a dull throbbing behind my skull makes it harder to continue sleeping, as well as the thought of him wearing his boots in my recently changed sheets.

"You aren't in _your_ bed." He chuckles. My eyes snap open and I elbow him away to lie flat on my back to look for familiar scuff marks on the ceiling and then I sit up a little too quickly, my consciousness does not move with me and my vision swims in response.

I am in my _spare_ bedroom.

I begin to slide out of the comforters while rubbing my palms into my tired eyes. The ground is freezing cold against my soles and I tense against it involuntarily, my muscles contract painfully in rejection to the cold. I am unaware when I had unlocked the door and come in here, Eric was with me. Surely I had fallen asleep in my _own_ bed.

When I am certain that my eyes will not melt or continue to dilate, I stop rubbing, blink away the spots and stand to stretch my aching limbs, my shoulder is stiff and slightly painful. I contemplate getting painkillers from the infirmary.

Eric stands leaned against the door frame with a sweater, pants and my boots in his hands. "Thought we could go help out at that wheel thing." He says with a casual shrug, throwing everything onto the bed. "After lunch that is."

"We?" I ask as I pull the sweater on, the fabric is scratchy and uncomfortable against my skin but it is thick and warm. Eric sighs and rolls his eyes.

"I'm a 'hit it and quit it' type of guy and I'd like to hit you at least once so, I've elected to incorporate myself into some of your more. . . _routine_ daily extracurricular activities." He says and his mouth spreads into a grin, exposing rows of his straight white teeth.

I shrug in response, he will get bored or uninterested, or chased away. He waits while I change, put my boots on and strip the sheets off the bed, and follows closely behind when I enter the main room.

"Oh and you should keep my key, you know?" He asks with an almost conversational tone. "In case you have some insatiable _urges,_ or late night _desires_ that I could help you with."

"I'm sure _Lauren_ could help me with those." I reply evenly while pouring the vase of flowers, water and his key down the sink drain.

* * *

"We stayed over at Jackie's cause well. . .We thought you might like to be alone. . ." Kat confesses while placing a piece of cake on my plate, she frowns at me mockingly.

They had not slept in my apartment and they explain that they felt I 'might be _heartbroken_ over seeing my 'potential lover' with another woman' and wished to wallow in self pity. I had inquired why they weren't there this morning but it worked out accordingly.

"Obviously it bothered you." Jackie says with concern while taking the piece of cake dutifully. "Your hair is shorter and you've been crabbier today." She runs her fingers through my hair before starting on the desert.

Apparently I cut my hair in a fit of jealous rage. I press my elbows into the table and rub my temples while they attempt to 'cheer me up'.

They take my fever, appearance and dark mood and form their own explanations for it. I am "love sick." Another thing I appreciate about them.

They assume things and fill in for my silence. They use the stereotypes and immediately categorize me into the 'angsty teenage girl' and create excuses _for_ me. Although it is humiliating to let them believe I would be so greatly effected by something so mundane and pointless, it is also helpful and a bit sobering.

My thoughts are cut off when a hand clamps down on my injured shoulder and squeezes through the fabric. I almost choke on the coffee that was making its way down my throat. "The weather is beginning to clear up!" Gushes Amar as he slides into the bench next to me, he releases my shoulder and bumps me with his hip.

"You have to come out today, we started on some of the other thingamabobs too but they're a little worse for wear. . .there's one with horses!" Throws in Joseph as he joins the table.

"Sure." I reply while clearing my throat with a soft cough and swallowing thickly. "But I may not be much help."

"That's alright Genie weenie." Kat says with a laugh. "You can just stand there are and look miserable."

* * *

It's not snowing and the sun peeks through the dark blanketed sky. There are numerous people trekking through the area we use primarily for the war games. Laughter, snowballs and conversation fills the air. The weather has indeed cleared up.

My breath comes out in shallow white huffs as I carry Jackie on my back, her arm around my neck tightly while I grip her legs around my waist. "You've gotten heavy." I complain breathlessly through clenched teeth.

"I've been eating all _your_ cake." She says with a laugh, it only becomes especially hard when Kat starts throwing snowballs at us while perched on the shoulders of Joseph as he provides her with the ammo. Normally it would be Gabriel playing to role of pack mule but as he is injured, I assumed the role _involuntarily_ when she jumped me.

"Hey, you guys are supposed to be helping!" Amar complains but he comes charging at us and I brace myself for unavoidable impact and soon they are a pile of flailing limbs in the cold white snow, while I try unsuccessfully not to get hit.

I lay there letting the wetness seep through my clothing and let the pain fade while listening to all the laughter that becomes louder when Kat smashes a snowball over the top of my head.

Despite my condition I am enjoying myself.

"You guys are _so_ mature." Tori says sarcastically. I cup a ball of snow in my hands and hurl it at her, ignoring the intense burn in my shoulder and she laughs, shielding her face with her arms protectively as the white slush explodes around her, she retreats after being pelted numerous times by the others.

Before long a war game ensues.

Everyone around becomes targets for compressed snow. I find my way to Eric who is helping Bud with a large, circular, tented contraption with broken distorted horses, neatly polished but still rusted in certain parts.

Bud tells me they can be painted in the spring, it's a carousel. It consists of a large rotating platform with seating for riders to circle around and around for amusement, it hardly looks as though it will ever move again.

Eric ignores me, and continues to work over small parts with tools, tightening bolts and kicking snow off of sections of the outer fixtures. His blue-gray eyes are concentrated on his task, brows furrowed with his mouth pressed into a firm line.

I recognize his calculating gaze as he had it several times while scrutinizing me. Perhaps he treats _me_ as a project, like this carousel. A subject to study. Fix, tinker, condition, or repair, even destroy.

"Ambush!" A voice bellows in the distance.

Eric's expression becomes bewildered with his eyes wide, mouth open in utter shock when the snow bursts over the side of his head applying frost to his short hair and clothing, spraying over his work space.

He tackles me into the cold soft ground, rolling around, and when I manage to force him back and straddle him beneath me with a ball of snow cupped in my raised hand, he gazes up at me with a wide toothy smile and bright eyes, his fingers remember where the nail marks are.

* * *

Eric rests his chin on my shoulder, his cheek pressed against mine while I work over the control console for the carousel, they had removed the cover to expose the many inner workings on the inside that commands the speed and when to start or stop. Occasionally his hands will move from around my waist to interrupt my work, or fix an error I've made.

The metal tools are cold in my hands and there are many parts that are too rusted and broken, blackened from time that are needed to be removed and replaced. I have no real experience with this but it's a simple task that requires no real instruction.

Next to me is a large tool box with pieces scavenged from building materials and other Dauntless projects long forgotten, at some points he will look through it to produce the next piece I need and then resume his position as warmth.

Jackie, Kat, Joseph and several other Dauntless sit on the large horses chattering away while dusting snow and frost from their clothing and hair, having concluded the battle. The topic of the conversation ranges from Dauntfest activities to next year's choosing. Everyone present has declared Dauntless. No one asks me. They also don't ask us about our current position. I wager they will wait till he is not around, my suspicions are confirmed when Kat gives me a disproving frown.

"So you know when I said there was really only one thing you're good at?" Eric asks with a low tone, brushing his lips against my ear, his voice is only loud enough for me to hear.

I don't answer him and continue changing out a rusted bolt that I had missed previously, the many levers and wires will probably have to be replaced by someone else as I have no real experience with that. I may just advise Amar to scrap the carousel, too much of it is destroyed.

"I actually meant _tattooing_. You're really only good at that." He chuckles while applying pressure to my shoulder with his chin. "Maybe you should consider making that your permanent occupation."

I drop the tool and push my palms into my eyes while trying hard not to laugh.

* * *

Kat punches me in the arm with enough force to bruise and force me against the armrest of my couch, but then she pulls me back apologetically sliding her own arm around my neck, pressing into my throat pulling me to her side. It seems with my injury people have been a lot rougher with me, in their defense they are oblivious to it.

Her arm becomes tighter around my neck but I am far from uncomfortable, although my shoulder is being pressed on. In her words she is ' _Keeping me from making a horrible mistake, and getting hurt again_.' Kat has not given me an inch in any direction.

She tells me not to give in to his 'charm', that I can do better, that Eric is a gigantic 'douche.' She also goes on to say that he is just using me. In a way, I was just using him. I don't feel particularly inclined to argue with her.

I give her a bored expression, before glancing back down over her arm to turn a page of my new wordless book, the pictures in this one are more violent and dark. That's probably why Eric gave it to me moment's before propositioning me, asking me to 'stay the night' at his place _in front_ of Kat.

He had done it on purpose, knowing full well how she would react based on her expression. The outcome being that I will now be surrounded by people, but I find that I don't mind that. It will give him little opportunity to shadow me.

"You guys are so cute." Gabriel says returning from the bathroom with a towel over his head. He limps over to slide down onto the couch next to Kat, draping his arm over the back and puts his legs up over our laps, his still slightly swollen ankle dropped right over the pages of the book. "Your fingers are freezing!" He yelps when I place my hand over his ankle.

"We are all staying the night here." Kat declares. "We'll have a pre-Dauntfest slumber party, and. . .Invite people at dinner and. . .You can get over him, hang out with some other guys. . .I mean we haven't hung out with Henry and the others for like, ever."

"Sounds good to me." I reply evenly while lifting Gabriel's foot to turn another page, he does not obstruct most of the images.

"Wait, get over who?" Gabriel asks while wiggling his toes.

"Coulter." I respond while tracing over the name engraved into the spine of the book with my fingers. Each letter is carved deeply, I scratch my nails along the edges.

"Whaaaaat?! No fucking way!" Gabriel bellows, Kat sighs and rests her cheek against my hair and he starts laughing raucously when I lift his foot once more. "Stop, stop you're tickling me!"

* * *

Kat has her cheek pressed against the pillow and she smiles at me, it's a devious but sleepy smile. The comforters are pulled all the way up to our chins so it's warm but she pinches me with her frigid toes.

There are sounds of snoring both soft and loud around us, it makes her laugh occasionally, especially when she hears the snores that come from Jackie.

"Hey Gene?" She attempts to whisper but her voice is naturally too loud and when someone stirs and coughs she covers her mouth and silently giggles. She is slightly inebriated from the night's drinking. It was a small group but one I've come to familiarize myself with, I'll be surrounded by people for the next week and I find that I look forward to Dauntfest.

My apartment will need to be cleaned in the morning, the couch possibly stripped and washed.

"What?" I ask with a sigh, fluffing my pillow and dropping my head on it a few times. It is not comfortable in the least.

"Get out." Kat says playfully before kicking me in the gut, I fall backwards out of the bed sliding between the comforter and the mattresses and I land on top of Joseph wrapped in thick blankets, he grunts and rolls me off of him onto the concrete floor. "Go. . .Give him a good nights kissies." She sighs dreamily.

I cover my face with my hands and sigh deeply. This night she had dedicated herself to throwing me at every guy that appeared which is something I have not experienced, and now she's kicked me out of my bed. My shoulder hurts immensely, and I've not gotten proper sleep. I run my fingers through my hair and pull it slightly before sitting up and pushing myself up off the ground.

"I know you want to." Kat says slyly rolling onto my side to block me from lying back down, she spreads her arms out taking up the length not occupied. "Shhhh, there's no space in _this_ bed."

There is no space, in _any_ bed, in all of Dauntless for _me_.

I step lightly over the sleeping forms all wrapped in blankets, my room is littered with bodies on the cold floor. My hand searches for the key in the dirt through the darkness and I feel for the keyhole to unlock the door, quietly as to not wake those sleeping on my couch.

I've been disturbing the insides of this room too often, the smells have all filtered out, the air, the atmosphere and even the bed is no longer as cold, harsh and inviting.

It could possibly be because of the _uninvited_ guest sleeping in it, I sigh deeply and pull my face down into a frown when I see that the bed is occupied.

When I slide into the covers he stirs and reaches for me, pulling me flush against him. "Your toes are freezing." Eric complains his voice is thick and sleepily and he settles with a contented sigh.

Instead of asking why he is in my apartment, I close my eyes. At least he provides an adequate amount of warmth. Before long I fall into a haunted sleep.


	10. Heartless

I wake at 3:50 A.M. My watch still on my wrist and Eric is still asleep with his head lain heavily on my shoulder, it hurts, his arms wrapped firmly around my waist. I have a lot of neglected work to catch up on, not to mention a conference to attend at 5 A.M, but this position greatly restricts my movements.

Uncaring of his comfort, I shove him off and he jerks awake, his blue-gray eyes wide and alert as he scans the room and then relaxes as though unable to spot any _danger_ , it was almost amusing. I push the comforters off and make my way to the closet to begin preparing for the day.

Eric lays back, stretching before putting his arms behind his head and placing a pillow over his lower half, although he is fully clothed and still under the covers. "Morning." He greets with a sleepy smile and a yawn. "I would get up to hel. . ."

"I'm capable of dressing myself." I reply flatly while buttoning the uniformed black pants, they are slightly larger and I retrieve the belt hung neatly in the corner of the closet, I discard my sleep pants on the floor and kick them to the side. I'm hardly injured enough to require assistance, my condition has already greatly improved from the previous day.

"That wasn't exactly what I was implying." Eric laughs, his blue-gray eyes become amused and then thoughtful. "I guess I can afford to be a little straightforward with you. . ." He trails off as though he is deliberating.

I ignore him and strip my shirt off and inspect my stitches. They are red and irritated and slightly tender, I suppose it does not help that the strap of my bra constantly skims it or that Eric slept on it, I sigh deeply and reach for a hanging shirt leaving the empty hanger on the rack.

"Would you like to have phenomenal morning sex and then go out for some coffee?" He asks conversationally, his question is definitely straightforward, not to mention vulgar and brash. My brows furrow instantly at his complacent and casual expression, it's as if he just asked if I wanted to go out for coffee.

I pull the fresh black shirt over my head, and my hair out through the neck hole and I can feel my petulance rising or annoyance, after weeks of his constant pestering. His expression goes from taunting to bewildered in a matter of seconds when I crawl onto the bed over to him and remove the pillow disguising the pitched comforters.

He sits up immediately with raised brows unsure of my intentions when I straddle him, still fully clothed but he wraps his arms around my waist and I reciprocate by placing mine around his neck as he very cautiously tilts his head in, his blue-gray eyes never leave mine. His over all reaction with his slow and meticulous movements suggests that he did not expect me to comply or that he suspects duplicity. I lean in with no intention of placing my lips upon his.

Instead my teeth find the tattoo on the column of his neck and I bite down on his flesh with almost enough pressure to break skin, his answering moan and involuntary shudder comes highly unanticipated. I had expected him to gasp in pain or become enraged and force me away, not the opposite.

His hands slide up my back and grip my shoulders roughly, causing a momentary sharp sting from the stitches when he pulls me down and against his arousal while he tilts his head back as if to offer more access. When I remove my teeth he squeezes my injured shoulder in protest, and a sound of disapproval escapes him.

I am stunned and filled with confusion. His eyes are half lidded and his breathing becomes shallow, I'm inexperienced with this sort of situation but surely this is _not_ how he should be reacting to physical pain.

The mark I've left is deep like the engraving in his book. He pulls me into him again and shudders as though the friction is enough to satisfy him. I've no idea what to do in the situation that I've initiated but I persist. My fingers intertwine in his hair to grip it firmly in my fist and I pull his head further back and find my teeth clamped over the small exposed space between his shoulder-blade and neck.

"Fuck." He growls, the sound is agonized but heavily pleading for me to continue and his hands grip my hips to move me against him. I drag my tongue over the new mark and up to his ear and his fingers dig into my skin under my shirt eagerly, I vaguely notice that he has no _flavor_.

I scrape my nails into his arm and willingly apply my body weight into his slow grind, his erect male reproductive organ covered by comforters, and his boxers and I am still fully clothed but his answering guttural groans would make one assume that we are actually engaged in a sexual act.

His eyes snap open and he glares at me with a raw and uncivilized look and attempts to undress me, his hands impatiently struggling with the belt on my pants and I swiftly remove myself from his lap and out of his grasp.

"Where are you going?" Eric snaps, his voice is breathless and highly agitated, his teeth are slightly bared at me, his hands clasp the comforters to throw them off of himself.

My petulance was thoroughly assuaged and I've no further desire to torture him. I shrug complacently and smooth my shirt before opening the door to my living room. "I'm sure _Lauren_ would be more than willing to satisfy your insatiable _urges_ , or early morning _desires_."

I close the door behind me and breathe deeply to calm the irksome pounding against my rib cage. The sleeping forms in the living room are completely oblivious to me and I wonder passingly if they would have awoken If I had made him _scream_.

* * *

"Another year is coming to a close." Marcus Eaton starts before droning on about the preparation for next year's aptitude tests and choosing ceremony. This year Candor officials will be administering the tests and then next year will revert to Dauntless.

Which means Jeanine will probably have a list of people that they will be monitoring closely to determine the faction they choose because Candor never lie about abnormal results. I sit with my cheek in my palm while I scrutinize the man wearing Abnegation gray, my fingers tap the long white conference table impatiently.

"Gene." Max's soft voice cuts through my musing. I blink and look at him, he has on a slightly amused expression. "Marcus Eaton looks like he's got a wad of Abnegation stuck in his curd hole." He whispers and then starts laughing raucously, pounding his tattooed fist into the table right in the middle of Marcus' speech.

I cover my face and grit my teeth when the other factions representatives glance in our direction. The smell of alcohol lingers on his breath and Falen is the one that drove, Dauntfest has indeed started and even the Leaders participate with unrestrained drinking.

Marcus continues his speech uninterrupted going on about the selection for the choosing ceremonies speaker but I notice Jeanine cover her mouth as though to disguise her smile, even Johanna Reyes of Amity looks to have enjoyed Max's interruption, she and her female company both have bright smiles on and try besides themselves not to laugh.

Max clears his throat, shrugging and sitting straight, impartial to the attention. Falen scoffs near him with his hand clasped over his eyes, pinching his temples with his thumb and pointer. "I think everyone here could use a drink." He jokes.

I nod my head slowly in angreement to Falen's comment while Jeanine Matthew's trains her icy-blue eyes on me, her long spider like fingers covering her straight white teeth.

* * *

As soon as we reach Jeanine's meticulously organized glass office she kicks her heels off onto her hard linoleum floor and runs a hand through her platinum hair before placing her glasses onto her nose. I nudge her discarded shoes out of the walkway, against the wall and join Falen and Max at the white leather chairs around her table.

"As we all know, this coming year will be Genesis' choosing, and initiation." Jeanine starts immediately before we all settle, she sounds almost gleeful. This marks one of the first occasions that she has ever worn her spectacles on her face. "And that brings us to our current discussion."

Jeanine has been anticipating this coming year, as I would be the most volatile and likely to defect, considering my attachments. It's plausible, although I have calmed myself, fallen into routine, pacified my lingering ghosts, I _am_ still reluctant.

I nod my head absently, sitting back into the cold leather, with my arm resting on the table. Pinched between my pointer and thumb is a single daisy. The moment the conference was concluded I should have expected, when Johanna's smiling female assistant came straight for me, that she would give me a flower.

The stem twists between my fingers, spinning the petals around and around and I listen while Jeanine, Max and Falen deliberate, it seems more of a debate the way that they bicker like they're half their age.

They want to implement 'Safety Measures.' Or precautions which I would also do if I were in their position but they're going a bit overboard.

Falen and Jeanine feel I should be excluded from _all_ further meetings and anything related to leadership, all my duties, responsibilities, weapons and clearances are to be relinquished during the duration of my initiation which would be a _standard 'probation' period._

So that I can't use them to my 'advantage'.

Max complains audibly that this will make life harder for _them_ because I'm their paper-pusher, I assist with currency tracking, the distribution schedules, the wall regime, determining the off duty and on duty rotations, I've done a fair amount of _their_ work in my spare time.

Jeanine goes so far as to _suggest_ that Eric learn them ahead of time in preparation for the position that he seems to be 'The best candidate' for. It's obvious that with me out of the job for the time being Eric will take over my routine leadership responsibilities, the votes will become one sided, no one to stand in the way of him being able to implement his changes to Dauntless' initiation process or influence certain Dauntless traditions.

"I don't like him." Max says firmly, he is still slightly inebriated and his attitude greatly reflects it, he mainly just complains. "And I don't want to spend all my days working with someone I don't like. . .Besides if Gene can do it then she can do it, I don't see why this is such an issue. . .Okay so maybe once-"

"Seeing as how she was so determined to get rid of Gordon, and how quickly she was able to do so, wouldn't you think it's a bit suspicious?" Jeanine asks narrowing her icy blue eyes at me. "Paving a way to safety hide Divergent within faction-less? just like-"

"Hey, hey, _we_ gave her that assignment as a punishment." Falen argues gesturing between himself and to Max. "Because of her carelessness and. . ." He gets a thoughtful look. "Because of Eric Coulter."

Jeanine starts laughing but she had to have known. I could probably hypothesize her entire plot and Eric's direct involvement. I glare at her intensely because she was just about to insinuate and compare me to Reid. "I see you still haven't gotten over your paranoia." she says with an eye roll.

"It would've been _me_ trudging out in the snow to put a bullet in his head." Max admonishes while lighting a cigarette, puffing several times. "Should've been you, Falen, considering, but I forget how we-"

"Let's just come to a bloody agreement." Falen sighs, leaning forward to put his hands on the desk. Max is right though, he should have taken responsibility, although I had other motives and was more than willing.

"All aforementioned conditions, no unauthorized access to any. . .Just make her a _civilian_ , take away _all_ her toys." Jeanine sighs exasperatedly, pulling her face down into a frown. "Assign someone to watch her constantly to make sure she stays within guidelines. . ."

"My _toys_?" I ask Jeanine with fervor, she just gives me a wide mocking grin.

"Oh ho." Max says excitedly, he begins coughing up an obscenely large amount of smoke, pounding a fist into his chest to stop his hacking. "We should ask your boyf-"

"No." I state flatly, while staring at the spinning flower between my fingers, trying hard not to crush it. "I willingly relinquish my ' _toys_ ' and submit myself to the conditions, and I won't leave the compound grounds. I don't _need_ a-"

"Well you don't have much of a choice Genesis, _we_ obviously can't watch you 24/7. You can't leave Dauntless unsupervised, you can't have any weapons, you're out of work and Eric needs to learn those basic leadership duties, so why not? You teach him and he can be your chaperon." Falen says thoughtfully, cutting me off. "And since _he's_ under suspicion, and you're not over that paranoia." He gives Jeanine a raised brow and she just shrugs complacently. "It works both ways, don't it? Watch each other."

"I thought you kids were getting along anyway. . ." Max states thoughtfully, kicking his boots up. "I mean I don't like him either but. . .You're going to be working with him a lot longer than the rest of us."

"He's been constantly humiliating me. . .Manipulating everyone around me to. . .Make me look like some kind of. . ." I complain and drop the flower onto the table to run a hand through my hair. I've never been more flustered, I look like a pathetic love struck girl because of him. "He's going to learn all that shit in Leadership course anyway-"

"I'm for it." Jeanine says with a laugh, nodding her head slowly while tapping her long nails against the table top. "It would make everyone's lives that much simpler.. . .Even _yours_." She gestures to me and her laughter becomes lighter and genuine.

I stand abruptly and glare at the three people sitting comfortably in their leather chairs before making my way to the glass doors. "You can't go anywhere without supervision." Falen says jokingly as though my probation starts at this very moment. "Oh and make sure to put your seat belt on in the car, Max is driving back."

"And I'll be by to pick up all your toys." Max adds with a chuckle before the door can close behind me.

* * *

"Gene." Kat says sternly her brows are furrowed and her green eyes are sharp and severe, I notice that her hair is orange again, I find that I like the color. "What in the actual fuck? Weren't you with him _just_ last night?" She trains her glare at the other end of the room where Eric sits with a Dauntless girl several years older than him with long blonde hair.

I chew the flavor-less bit of greens between my teeth, finding myself unable to eat the meat on my plate as the stench has become unbearable. I reply with a complacent shrug. "You aren't going to do anything about it?" Jackie asks me with a concerned tone.

"What do you expect me to do?" I ask with a fake sigh. Max and Falen already went through a thorough search of my apartment and have yet to talk to Eric but it's obvious what will become of that situation. I'll just look like a clingy girl, holding onto a guy that doesn't have feelings for me.

"I don't know, punch him in the face?" Jackie asks incredulously, slapping her palm with her fist to add emphasis. "Lay claim? I mean I doubt any girl would go near him if they knew he was ever involved with you, you're sca. . .Pretty I mean."

"Do you really just not care if he's like that?" Kat inquires as she slides a cup of coffee over the length of the table and I take a sip immediately despite her devious expression. "Oh my gosh, Gene you aren't just in it for the-"

"I am." I reply flatly, they both start giggling uncontrollably. My shoulder is starting to itch and burn, I resist the urge to scratch at it.

"No strings attached?" Jackie asks with a shocked tone, covering her mouth as though she's speaking too loudly.

"Yep." I nod my head slowly. "Exactly." If that means it's just for convenience without real attachment.

"That's actually kind of hot. . ." Kat says with a sly smile and a brow wiggle. "Does he have a big-"

"No." I reply before she can finish her question. They start laughing raucously, clutching their stomach, catching their breath with red faces.

"Hey, you guys I thought that Gene was-"

"Shut up!" Jackie exclaims pulling Gabriel down into the bench, he protests due to his ankle but he was distracted looking over in the direction Eric sits. I sigh deeply at this dramatic situation while they whisper harshly to each other what the 'down low' is.

"Are you going to come with us?" Kat asks me while Jackie continues to express the situation to a flabbergasted Gabriel, he gives me impressed looks occasionally that I don't particularly understand. "We're going to meet up with Joseph at the Wheel, Amar says they're going to-"

"Maybe not today, I want to clean out my apartment and maybe get some sleep." I admit while stretching my arms over my head to add emphasis to how I don't intend to join in on Dauntfest first day of drinking and horse playing. The first day is always the longest and I've no taste for alcohol. "I have work to finish up anyway."

Work that I should do before Eric can mess it up somehow, and if I finish it all up then I won't need to teach him any of it.

"Oh yeah, you need some sleep after last night eh?" Kat says with a wink, flinging food off the end of her fork.

"What?" I inquire while brushing bits of stray vegetables from my hair.

* * *

The knocking at my front door is loud and sharp from my spare bedroom, but I make no move to get it. Instead I lay back against the headboard with my legs over the pillows and another under my head. I continue to ignore it and turn the page of the book I found on the bed when I came in to clean out the closet and everything in this room in preparation for Dauntfest.

This book is filled with pictures of animals. The likes of which I've never seen before, there are no words but the names of each creature under each image. A giant cat with fur around it's neck called a Panthera Leo, and a horse with black and white all over it's body called a Equus Quagga.

There was a note within the pages that read.

 _8:00 P.M. CAROUSEL_

 _-ERIC_

I left his note on the table under my vase, even though there was only a single flower I still filled it. The crumpled flower floats atop the water along with the ashes from Max's cigarette from when they confiscated my _toys_. It looks especially pathetic.

I let out a sigh of aggravation when Eric flops down onto the bed beside me crumpling and smashing spreadsheets and documents, he wears a wide toothy grin. "I see you found the book, I wasn't sure you'd come into this room after this morning."

"You have have a key." I state flatly. He sighs contentedly and rolls onto his back placing his hands behind his head as if he's getting comfortable, the various papers crumple beneath him and he pays no mind.

"I do, courtesy of your leaders. . .You know, they even wished me luck." Eric says with a chuckle. "Max also assured me that your apartment no longer had any sharp pointy objects, although. . .I'm sure you're capable enough with just your hands and teeth."

I still have the knife in my boot.

"Oh and you don't have to meet me at the carousel, turns out we get to spend a lot more time together anyway." He explains casually. "I wanted to try a new approach, I even got the advice from a blonde female on how to properly. . ."

I tune him out and turn a page in the book and gaze at Canis Lupus which are basically giant dogs, or wolves and I vaguely wonder if they still live outside the walls or in the fields of Amity. "You still aren't going to talk to me?" Eric asks with palpable annoyance. "I thought after this morning we we're making good progress with expressing feelings, like jealousy or-"

He talks a lot, I respond by turning another page to look at Cetacea, large underwater creatures and I turn the book sideways in awe at such a thing. It spreads to both pages, there is a lake near Amity but surely it's not big enough to be suitable.

"Eric." I say sternly releasing my grip on the book to stop his wandering hands from sliding up my shirt. He mumbles incoherently into the skin of my abdomen, pushing the pillows under my legs off the side of the bed.

"Mmm." He responds. "I like." He continues between biting and sucking on the flesh of my stomach. "When you say my name." He finishes with an involuntary shudder before resting his lips on my hip, his teeth grazing along it.

When he starts undoing the belt buckle of my pants I press my foot to his chest to push him off. "You're obviously okay with physical contact. You let _everyone_ touch you." He complains, as though this is any different from a casual handshake or the contact I receive from others. "Do you even _feel_ anything?"

"No." I reply flatly, in actuality I can _feel_ people touching me, physical contact is just that, contact. Feelings of attraction towards someone is dangerous.

"Are you afraid of physical _intimacy_?" He inquires before snatching the book from my hands. He tosses it over his shoulder and I hear it slide over the cement floor.

"I'm not afraid of it, it is unnec-"

"Oh I get it, you don't feel like you _deserve_ to be physically intimate with someone. Right?" Eric asks, his brows raise like he has unraveled a mystery and he begins to look thoughtful. "Because you took away your friends _lover_. . .Is that why you keep those flowers? Is that your way of expressing remorse or guilt?"

He leans in with the intention of placing his mouth on mine, I tangle my fingers into his hair and pull his head away. "There is something extremely attractive about someone so inherently _heartless_." He breathes attempting again, gripping the back of my neck.

"I am not heartless." I argue harshly, an uncomfortable feeling presses on my chest, one I do not recognize.

"Shouldn't you be giving those flowers to your friend?" Eric asks tauntingly, continuing his attempts to get a rise out of me. "You know, I once walked in on them in the initiates dorms." He laughs while shaking his head like he remembers. "Let me tell you, it was much more satisfying watching _you_ with that creepy mask drag his unconscious body to-"

My fist connects with his jaw with crushing force, stopping the rest of his words from exiting his mouth and he plops back onto his side while laughing and rubbing over the area effected. "Aww Genie, don't leave. I promise I'll behave." Eric says with a head tilt and a mocking pout while sitting up. "Mmm, on second thought, I'll behave even _better_ if you bite me again."

I take a deep steadying breath and retrieve the book off the ground, returning the pillows and attempting to gather all the loose papers before stalking into my living room, tossing everything onto the table, before crumpling his note. My hand hesitates over the glass vase, it doesn't _belong_ in Dauntless.

"Alright seriously, Genie." Eric says following me to the kitchen, he says 'seriously' and uses a stern tone and yet still calls me _Genie_. "Gene. . .Genesis."

He takes my hand and his, and places his other over it as though he's going to confess, his expression becomes calm and collected, and he takes a deep breath. "I could care less if you're heartless."

I scowl and snatch my hand out of his and grab my jacket and boots.

"Don't forget to meet me at the Carousel. 8 P.M. Sharp." Eric calls after me informatively, while I slam the door behind me.


	11. Psychoanalyze

"The first few days are just drinking and drinking. . .Games." I reply without attempting to put the headphones back over my ears, I had removed them several times for conversation. Four had asked me about Dauntfest, as Abnegation had no such festivities. "To let go of everyone lost during the year and to also bid farewell to those leaving us."

Four nods his head slowly, my answers are vague and non-explanatory but he does not complain, I should be more appreciative of his patience, my mood had soured greatly due to the incessant itch in my shoulder and because of Eric. "Yeah we don't have old people in Dauntless. " Zeke adds, while spinning around in the control room chair. "They either make the jump or go to faction-less, we told you this remember?"

I place the headphones over one ear so I can hear their conversation and start browsing through the screens. I don't isolate particular footage but linger for an unprecedented amount when I find Falen and Max with the leadership candidates.

"How old is _old_?" Four asks him, his expression is displeased, but it has always been this way in Dauntless, it is an achievement to live long but also one to die bravely young as well, being Dauntless isn't particularly an occupational hazard so, many live to a old age.

"I guess like 50 - 60, sometimes older." Zeke replies. "It depends on their like. . .I don't know health, physical shit stuff." ' _Physical shit stuff'_ , it's amazing how much someone can simplify, there are many deciding factors besides age. "We get like an examination or physical once every decade." He waves his hand passingly.

"What about the rest of Dauntfest?" Four asks continuing his inquiries and Zeke is the one that explains that there will also be war games, mock fights, marriages, one year-age commencement, other random unimportant events, the fireworks, and this year they are hopeful for Amar's Ferris Wheel.

"You guys don't have birthdays?" Four asks curiously. I sigh deeply leaning back into the leather chair. At this rate he will never run out of questions, and I will not be able to use the surveillance freely and it's my last day.

I check my watch. 7:34 P.M.

* * *

"Gene." Max says sternly. "Where is _Eric_?" He asks and he looks down the hall, left and right.

"He only needs to accompany me if I want to _leave_ Dauntless right?" I reply tersely while continuing down to get to the Pit where I saw Amar and the others through surveillance. I do not plan on leaving, with or without him. "He doesn't need to be with me constantly."

Max side steps into my path with his hand out. "Hey, it's not that we don't trust you, it's just precaution. . .temporary." He says with a low but even tone loud enough for only me to hear. "You know how this goes, we all went through it."

"Alright, I know." I sigh aggravatingly, my age and relation is out of my control. I complain the cause of my sour mood and wavering patience, although my stitches are also beginning to bother me. Max just laughs and claps my injured shoulder.

"If he bothers you that much. . ." Max trails off. "I'm kidding, it was a joke." He chuckles before crossing his arms over his chest, my expression remained passive, I fail to see his humor. "Eric could use this as an opportunity to prove that he isn't- It's not even. . . Just trust _us_." He tilts his head as though I should catch on.

Now that I really deliberate, maybe, he had proposed _Eric_ be my chaperon to exploit a loophole, whatever Eric does or wherever he goes, technically I'm permitted too. It's almost impressive from Max, if that is what he was trying to imply, although that just inconveniences me greatly. It should also inconvenience Eric though, and in the long run Jeanine.

"Okay." I state firmly with a frown. They've never given me a reason not to trust them, besides Jeanine. What really bothers me is how Eric is taking advantage of the situation and how they're _letting_ him. Surely this will end badly.

"Gene." Calls the most grating voice in Dauntless. Max glances up to see Eric and gives him a tight smile, there is an apparent hostility at the moment. "Max." Eric greets respectfully, before placing a hand on my lower back, unwarranted contact in front of an authoritative figure.

"Eric." Max reciprocates with the same respect, clasping his hands in front of him. "Well. . .You kids play _nice_." He says mainly to me, before turning sharply to start towards the Pit. "It's fucking Dauntfest!" He calls over his shoulder with a little less enthusiasm as he did this morning. "Hoorah!"

"Do you know what time it is?" Eric asks me with verve, pinching me in the side. "Oh, wait, I see you have your watch, so you _deliberately_ stood me up."

"It's 8:02 P.M." I reply flatly, giving him a bored expression.

"You're _2_ minutes late." He replies with fervor.

" _You_ aren't even there." I argue back.

"I was on my way." He admonishes, before shoving me in the opposite direction of the Pit, again, his casual familiarity is found to be trying. "Want to get some coffee before we go?"

"No."

"Alright, coffee it is." Eric says gleefully.

* * *

The weather is dreadful to be outdoors, the wind is frigid and bites at my cheeks, forcing cold through the layers of clothing and the scarf around my neck. Even the warmth of the coffee cup through my gloves is barely effective. The cover of the carousel does little to stop the slanted snowfall and I vaguely wonder how they ever expect to get these contraptions to move if the weather keeps freezing them in place.

It's dark but the dim security lights, illuminate everything enough to see, although the snow and darkness still make it extremely difficult. I find it hard to understand why Eric would even want to be out in this kind of weather, but for whatever reason he wanted to take me out of Dauntless. Distract me.

"Cold?" Eric asks with a wide grin, his breath comes out like white smoke and his blue-gray eyes are bright.

Instead of answering I take a sip from my cup, it's sickly sweet because Eric deliberately put sugar into it. It's as though he will never cease tormenting me, I do feel as though I deserve it, the heavy feeling has yet to dissipate and has begun to feel like smoke pouring out between my ribs. Maybe that's why I let him.

He kicks off from the horse he was leaned against and walks to the end of the platform, tilting his head up to catch snowflakes on his tongue like a child. "Come on Genie, live a little. . .It's alright you know, it's just _me_ , I promise to judge you harshly."

I make no move and instead watch the white fluff fall in rapid succession everywhere, blanketing everything in more and more layers of white. Our footprints in the snow have already been filled in completely.

Eric gives me an impatient look, bordering on irate as he gestures for me to join him. I lean against the slightly dilapidated horse with missing ears indignantly, before taking another sip for the warmth.

"So. . .I noticed you haven't had a drink yet today, why is that?" Eric asks casually, choosing a topic for unwarranted conversation. "No deaths you want to celebrate? No one you want to honor? Seems a little. . .Unwholesome. . .Or, what is a good word for someone who is really unhealthily. . ."

"I'll drink when we get back." I reply flatly, for the sake of ending conversations.

"Who will you be drinking for?" He asks making his way back over, he wraps his arms around me from behind, on the other side of the horse. The warmth is immediate. "Alright, you don't have to answer that." He sighs, breathing hot air over my shoulder and onto my cheek when he presses his cold face against the side of mine.

He is very judgmental. It's a _little_ refreshing.

"There's too many, huh? Probably some that don't even have names." He says thoughtfully after a moment of peaceful silence.

I sigh deeply, with a heavy fog of exhaustion. He is the most aggravating person I've ever met and, I've had people stab me, sometimes on accident. I find myself preferring knives to words right now.

"No worries, I'll drink with you." Eric chuckles. "Wouldn't want you to get drunk and accidentally _smile_ right?"

"Or get drunk and _accidentally_ kill you." I state threateningly without care for childish words before taking another gulp, the liquid has made my tongue barbed and left an aftertaste that can't be removed by dragging it between my teeth, it may have been the taste of my petulance.

"Mmm." He presses his cold lips below my ear and shudders, before squeezing me tightly. "Save that kind of talk for the bedroom."

"You are not permitted to stay in my apartment." I admonish, swallowing thickly, having almost choked on the lukewarm liquid making it's way down my throat. As always, I don't appreciate his innuendos.

"I have a key." Eric replies smiling against my skin as though my banishment is no longer viable because he has means of entrance. "Besides, i'm your _boyfriend_ now, completely committed to your discomfort and inconvenience."

"Temporarily." I remind, although I do not completely agree with their method of making it look natural for the two of us to be together often. When we are alone he does not need to keep up the appearance, it's purely theatrical.

"If you say so." He says with a mocking tone, his arms tighten and he presses his chin down onto my shoulder applying slight pressure to my injury. He becomes quiet for a moment, almost thoughtful. "Well. . .On a lighter note, this carousel will probably never work."

* * *

The Pit is buzzing with chatter and excited cheers and chants. The lights are twinkling brightly and everyone has a drink in one hand. Several air filled balloons are being tossed on the sea of people, when they pop, it releases a rain of confetti. This isn't the usual setting but every year something else gets added, it improves Dauntfest but it's always unnecessary, excess.

Eric had taken my jacket and gloves but left me my scarf saying it might be sobering to have something ' _wrapped around my neck_ '. He is so macabre and dark, I feel that may be his intent, im also inclined to suspect that he was put up to this.

I check my watch. 11:06 P.M. It's still fairly early but the drinking lasts long into the nights. People sit on the ledges of the Pit on the higher floors all cheering and the smell of alcohol is heavy in the air, so thick you can almost taste it when you breathe.

"Genie weenie!" Kat hollers to me, she grips the end of my scarf and pulls me further into the crowd of people, everyone bumping and swaying into me. I realize now how much physical contact I go through in a day, it's never something I thought about before. "You're finally here! Where we're you?"

When I tell her she punches me in the arm, my shoulder still hurts occasionally but only because I've been scratching at it recently, she wishes me luck in my 'doomed relationship.' I thank her and she laughs before pouring the rest of her drink into mine, stating that I 'need it more.'

I take an occasional sip of the dark yellow liquid, the twinkling lights illuminate it, to change its color from dark to light. It coats my mouth and tongue thoroughly before burning it's way down my throat, igniting my insides. It makes me feel heavier, the dark smoky feeling pours faster out of my ribs.

"Eric doesn't look happy." Four says with a low tone just loud enough to hear over all the conversations and noises in the cavern, and he sounds pleased but I had not noticed him come near me, and I am not sure exactly why he needed to update me.

I blink through my distracted haze and shrug, focusing on the remaining balloons still being hit into the air. I notice Max in the crowd looking to be enjoying himself, surrounded by older Dauntless, and then I notice Falen being salacious with Uriah's mother. There are many celebratory areas in Dauntless but the Pit is the most populated.

Eric stands on the other end in a small circle with Amar, Bud, Tori and Travis. He doesn't look in our direction so it is hard to judge his expression or mood, I find myself appreciating anything that could dampen _his_ spirits, also appreciating the distance and people between us.

Kat, Jackie, and Joseph all drink and chatter excitedly around me, with conversation that changes so quickly and drastically that I hardly take part. Four is with Zeke and Shauna but we stand close enough to where our groups mingle, the conversations overlap and often times cut into one another.

The younger Dauntless born weave through the crowds interrupting people and start random games, of which you have to drink upon losing. It's a familiar scene, this happens every year. The older we get the less we move, the more the others talk and the less I do.

"I think they want you to go over there." Four says and he gestures over to where Amar is waving his hands enthusiastically for _us_ to join them, clearly he gestures to both of us, pointing directly to each one.

"Probably." I reply, Four and I remain stationary, watching while Amar gives us an impatient look and a head tilt. I drink the rest of my beverage and point to my empty cup as though I am going to get another drink and Amar frowns. I've elected to prolonging my respite.

Eric turns and raises a brow questioningly when he sees my company, his mouth presses into a firm line, eyes narrowing fractionally. "Why don't you go over there." I ask Four, as he doesn't make any move to join them either.

Four laughs and takes a sip of his drink. "I like to stay far away from Eric."

"Same here." I admit solemnly.

"Really? I heard you two were-"

"From?" I inquire it is obvious what he's heard. Eric looks even more annoyed and I watch with a dull expression as he downs his cup, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and starts making his way through the crowd in our direction.

"Zeke." Four replies with a shrug, such unimportant new travels disappointingly quickly. "I'm pretty sure he's coming over here."

"I need another drink." I sigh, and I start making my way in the opposite direction towards a group of Dauntless passing drinks out faster than there are hands to receive them. Eric manages to take the cup being offered to me before I can, and slides his previous one under it to grip my wrist.

"Why were you talking to Four?" Eric asks, speaking into my ear so I can hear him over the noise, his tone is one laced with disgust. I assume that he is still frosty from having gotten his 'ass handed to him' during initiation. The other reason is one he shouldn't be privy of and Four has been cleared, not to mention we don't actively seek them out.

"He's decent." I reply, removing my wrist from his grasp to take the cup from Eric to slide mine under the last one. "He can kick your ass right?" I ask conversationally. Eric scowls at me and takes to wrapping his fist around one end of the scarf. "You were ranked _second_." He's only the best candidate by default, and possibly other underhanded reasons. I'm slowly making my way to the discovery. It is either Max or Falen.

Eric pulls me in by the scarf and lowers his face to my level. "What rank would Ami-"

I kick him in the shin and he grits his teeth, effectively cutting off his retorts, while I spin out of my scarf and make my way back through the crowd, he follows closely, fuming silently behind me.

"Genie weenie." Amar greets, draping an arm over my shoulders. "Where's- Oh never mind." He says. When Eric joins, he laces his fingers between mine, locking them firmly. To be automatically associated with such a person is almost draining. "That's so _cute_ , little Gene growing up so fast." He wipes at invisible tears and squeezes me roughly. "Although, no offense Eric but, she can do better. . ."

"None taken." Eric answers with an uncaring tone and a shrug, I notice he wears my scarf over his shoulders, it looks oddly like a vest, almost humorously so. "I know what kind of guy she _deserves_ , I'm sure I can give her exactly what she _wants_."

Tori sputters on her drink and laughs while Bud slaps him on the back. I dig my nails into the back of his hand, his skin is clammy, overly warm. The act of hand holding is possessive and an extremely awkward notion even for him.

"I approve. . .-Ish" Amar laughs it's it's a slightly nervous sound, while swaying, it is obvious this group is already intoxicated. "But. . .You have to pass a _test_."

"Ooooh." Tori says with interest, she slaps Bud on the head to get his attention and he snaps into focus.

"I'm listening." Eric assures with a shrug before gulping his drink. He swallows thickly and I watch his throat move as though I can see the liquid make its way down.

"What is Genie's favorite _color_?" Amar asks jokingly, his challenge is playful with no ill intent and Tori complains that he should make Eric _do_ something. I would appreciate if it made him release my hand, my nails are already dug in deep enough but his fingers remain clamped tightly.

Eric's expression becomes one of amusement and he gives me a raised brow. " _Orange_." He replies with a slight spreading smirk.

The rest of them laugh and tell him he has guessed horribly wrong, but I vaguely wander back to the color of Kat's hair, and the way it makes her green eyes much more prominent. That wandering thought would probably indicate some truthfulness.

I take a sip from the cup I hold, letting the alcohol drench my pallet and very slowly retract my nails, he rubs soft circles into my hand with his thumb.

"Next question, what is her favorite. . .Drink?" Amar asks, squeezing my shoulder. "If you get this wrong you have to drink everyone's round." He adds slyly raising the stakes, although he never made clear the result of failing the test.

"That carbonated shit thing." Eric answers confidently with a widening grin as though he enjoys the attention, they congratulate him on getting one right and tell him it's 2 out of 3. I had not realized I had grown partial to that particular drink, or that they all decided it was my favorite.

"Alright, alright, laaaaaast one." Amar states, quieting the others. "This question is. . .hmm. . .Okay last one is a. . ."

"I got this one." Tori declares holding her hand up, Amar shrugs complacently. "You have to. . .Make Gene laugh or at the most _smile_."

Amar laughs raucously and Eric looks at me calculatingly, his brows furrow at the challenge. He releases my hand to adjust the scarf like he is going to make an attempt. I do not want to see what he would come up with, especially with the prop.

"He has." I admit, to intentionally dissuade the situation. "When he threw his boots at me." Tori and Bud erupt with laughter because they remember, Amar complains that he didn't hear about this story, and Eric tenses slightly when I slide my hand back into his, running my fingers over his slightly sweaty palm before lacing them with his.

"Is that when you started liking him?" Amar asks curiously, ruffling my hair. His dark brown eyes are soft and warm.

"No." I reply but their renewed laughter would make it apparent that they don't believe me. Eric's grip tightens, squeezing my fingers between his.

* * *

My apartment is dismal. The quiet settles in every corner of the living room, the kitchen, my couch with my jacket and gloves draped over the backrest, my disorganized table with crumpled documents and spreadsheets, the open doors leading to both bedrooms that would normally be closed, and I can see the unmade beds.

First I organize the papers and smooth them out, piling them neatly on the table. Then I replace the sheets on the beds, fluffing the pillows and straightening out the comforters. I don't think about what I'm doing, I just do it, I force my hands to comply.

"I think you most resemble the. . .Laniidae. . .Lanius, or shrike." Eric mentions while lounging on the couch, his boots hanging off the armrest. He's taken up residence on the cushions with the book of animals, he explains that shrike or a type of bird that I'm pales it's prey. "Or maybe not. . .birds are too. . .hmm."

A soft knock on my door interrupts me from balling the sheets up and I drop them on the ground to answer it but Eric bounds off the couch first and I resume my work, surely he can manage something so effortless.

"Oh uhm. . .is Gene with-" I head over immediately when Eric says I'm ' _indecent_ ' and can't come to the door. He is infuriatingly obscene.

"Gene!" Jackie giggles nervously. "You haven't seen Gabriel have you? or Kat?" She asks, her cheeks are slightly flushed like she may have been drinking, she gives me a sly smile and Eric returns to the couch with an over-exaggerated sulk.

"Not since lunch, and she was in the Pit." I reply truthfully. She responds with an exasperated sigh and asks if i'm alright before offering a goodnight. "Will _you_ be alright?" I ask her seeing as she sways, my question sounds condescending but I did not mean it to.

Jackie blushes even more. "Yeah, I'm great actually. . . I'm staying with. . .Sean tonight." She confesses patting her cheeks with a bright smile. "I see you've got Eric." She gushes like it is something pleasant before asking me not to tell anyone about her plans and offers more good nights and a 'see you tomorrow' with a wink. Kat and the others had not told me if they planned to stay the night, I assume they won't.

I check my watch, which reads 12:56 A.M. and I kick off my boots while locking the front door. For a very brief moment I stare at the inner lining. "I'm going to bed." I say with a deep and steadying breath, although I really don't need to announce myself.

"Is that an invitation?" Eric asks distractedly.

"No." I reply, heading to my room to change. I already made it clear that he was to either leave or stay on the couch.

"I'll be right there. . ." Eric says with an oblivious hand wave over his shoulder. "I'm gonna shower first. . .Don't fall asleep without me."

* * *

I reach his apartment and check if it's locked, but I vaguely feel as though he _gave_ me an opportunity deliberately, the fact that his apartment was unlocked is also highly anticipatory. It almost makes me feel inferior, and yet I still go in.

The soft click sounding as the metal slides out and the silent scrape of a slightly too big door for the frame makes me hesitate for a moment, obviously he is intelligent, he came from Erudite, but what his intentions are, or his motives, I cannot fathom just yet. I'm unused to so much unwarranted attention.

The living quarters is dark, and I make out the various shapes of his table, chair and couch using the little light that filters in. It's exactly the same as before. I close the front door behind me and lock it before feeling for the light switch, and the very first thing I focus on after my eyes adjust to the light, is the scrap of paper on his table.

 _Predictable. I saved your flower though._

 _-ERIC_

A large arrow points to his kitchen under his neatly written name and I crumple the note into a ball before pressing my palms into my eyes with enough pressure to make my vision swim when I make my way over to it, with the intention of searching it. I open the first cabinet which was directly across the point of the arrow, above the sink, and instead of a _flower_ I find another note.

 _Just kidding._

 _-ERIC_

I crumple the second note, while gritting my teeth and turn off his light before exiting his apartment, although, I should have searched it more thoroughly I'm not exactly sure how much time it takes someone vain and egotistical to shower, if his shower is even _real_.

When I get back into my own apartment I close the door quietly behind me, vaguely aware of the sound of water running, but to my absolute _bewilderment_ , and annoyance on my table sits a newly filled glass with _my_ crumpled, abused, daisy floating on top, with a little less petals than before.

* * *

"Genie." Eric says with palpable annoyance directly in my ear while pressing his cold feet against mine. "Gene. . ." He persists, his hands are freezing cold as he slides them under my shirt. "Genesis."

I prop myself up onto one elbow and check my watch from the bedside table, it only took me several minutes to return before he had finished his exceptionally long shower. My thoughts are disorganized. His hair is still wet and he had the gall to climb into _my_ bed in nothing but his boxers. "What?" I ask with an exasperated sigh.

I'm _not_ appreciative of his childish games or his persistence or for the flower, or even his current temperature. At most he is a source of warmth.

"I'm _cold_." He complains audibly, pulling me back, I tense involuntarily each time he touches me. Every part of him is frigid. "Like a _corpse_ right?" He jokes darkly while trailing his cold fingers along the hem of my shorts, curling his finger under the fabric.

"Eric." I warn, he sighs exasperatedly but doesn't desist, he buries his face, nose and lips in the crook of my neck, all of him is cold.

"What is really stopping you?" Eric asks menacingly. "Are you so _against_ enjoying yourself? If that's the case I promise to make it as painful or as unsatisfying as possible." He sinks his teeth into my shoulder through my shirt above the stitches and I grit my teeth not in pain, but in resisting the urge to hurt him.

There is no particular reason why I abstain, or maybe there is, but far be it for me to defend myself over something so unimportant and pointless.

I take a deep steadying breath before turning over to face him. "Why are _you_ so desperate?"

"We're talking about _you_ and how you refrain from physical and emotional intimacy." Eric retaliates frostily. "I mean, you _did_ hold my hand, you also _let_ me _cuddle_ you, and those actions are way more intimate than a casual fuck."

"Is it cause you're lonely?" I inquire placing my hands on his bare chest. "I've seen your fears." I admit, keeping the tone in my voice level, I can vaguely feel his heart beat through my palm. He has an average amount at 12 fears. "Or you could just be _genuinely_ afraid of the dark. That would explain why you're so clingy and constantly seeking company at night."

"I'm not lonely." He replies with forced calm, but his blue-gray eyes flash and become severe, he brushes my hands off. I push him onto his back and crawl over him to straddle his hips, letting the comforters slide off me. "I hardly nee-"

"One of your fears manifested in the form of you being torn and ripped to shreds by _dogs_. Is that why you like when I bi-" He grips my hips roughly, digging his fingers in pulling me against his arousal. I respond by dragging my nails down his arms with intent to harm him for his interruption and he arches his back sucking in air sharply.

"How did you feel putting a bullet into your-" He starts to reciprocate before groaning loudly, when I roll my hips against his in the motion he had guided this morning, effectively stopping the words from spewing out of his mouth. Confirmation that he knows far more than he should, obviously informed by an internal source.

"Another was. . .Gruesome,. . .To be _dissected_." I continue passively, his fears could symbolize something else but the images were clear, specific. I drag one fingernail down the middle of his chest from his sternum to abdomen above his navel, digging in to leave a deep lingering mark, keeping myself from drawing blood, I'm finding it difficult.

"The first incision." I speak with a medical tone, lean in and drag my tongue up the mark to apply wetness to simulate bleeding, his body _is_ cold, _exactly_ like a corpse. He closes his eyes, tilting his head back as his hands continue to move me roughly in rocking motions against him, applying friction between us through our clothing.

"Go on." He breathes heavily, hardly able to speak through his gritted teeth, his brows are furrowed. He is tense beneath me as though his imagination has conjured up his exact fear based on my reenactment.

"I think you're warm enough now." I reply flatly, prying his hands off my waist, he growls audibly when I attempt to dismount him, and he grips my thighs tightly. "I don't appreciate being constantly psychoanalyzed by _you._ Dissect my life and choices however you prefer, but keep it to _yourself._ "

If he was not intentionally put up to the task of observing me. It could be his fear of being psychoanalyzed himself, that causes him to find someone else to project it on.

"Think I'll report it all back to Erudite?" Eric asks with harsh sarcastic fervor, his expression becomes vicious, blue-gray eyes narrow, his rough palm sweeps over my stomach and ribs before he digs his nails into the flesh of my waist. He still remembers where the marks were.

"That wasn't exactly what I was implying." I sigh, curling my fingers under his to remove them, he doesn't release his hold. I meant that _I_ would rather not hear it.

"You think i'm going to tell _her_ about all your little hesitations, your attachment to people or certain places like your 'spare bedroom', your aversion to specific foods like cake, carrots, sweets and now meat I believe,-" He pauses to sit up and slides a hand to my lower back to keep me firmly in place on his lap. "Or about your fondness for picture books and carbonated water?"

I listen to him intently as he lists things that only he has observed, about how I don't speak because everyone else around me does the talking, or how I don't drink because I don't want to let go, not really and how I constantly check the time out of habit.

His fingers and nails dig in further and further as he goes on and he creates his own imprints in my flesh. I could stop him, remind him that I have no interest in the way he's analyzed me and or my behaviors.

My own fingers are still curled around his hands but I've stopped my attempts to get him to relinquish his grip on me. His palms have become slightly slippery from sweat and I'm not able to discern what make _s him_ uncomfortable as he is the one that knows far too much about _me_.

"I'm not going to tell _Jeanine_ , because _she's_ not the one that wants to fucking know." Eric says menacingly, his mouth curls up Into a scowl, baring his flashy white teeth. He releases me with a shove, kicking comforters away from himself before stalking out of the room and I vaguely hear the bathroom door slam.


	12. Head and Home

Thanks for reading.

* * *

"Genie." Roused a thick and sleepy voice. Eric's. "The door. . .You get it." I get nudged awake roughly, before he releases his hold on me to roll over, the loss of warmth is immediate.

I rub my tired, heavy eyes before sliding out of the comforters, the cold air swirls around my legs, and I tense when my soles touch the concrete. I blink a few times against the darkness while patting the bedside table, before reading the time on my watch. The bright digits sting my pupils.

3:56 A.M.

The knocking at my front door is loud and persistent, and I'm only vaguely aware that my bedroom door is open. The noise reverberates off the concrete walls, echoing in my ears, forcing out the remnants of my dreams.

I yawn and stretch my arms before making my way to answering it, my stitches feel ever more uncomfortable today.

"What is it?" I ask Falen, blinking at the dim lights in the hall, he laughs at my appearance as I run my hand through my matted hair. I'm wearing what I consider my pajamas.

He's fully dressed and looks to be wide awake even after a Dauntfest night. I'm certain that I don't need to be notified of anything important, especially at this hour.

"Well for one, I'm here for the paperwork." Falen says with a raised brow and wide spreading grin. "I also need you _and_ Eric to meet me in my office in. . ." He glances at his watch. "30 minutes sound good?"

"Oh. . .Fine." I reply stifling another yawn, I don't deny that Eric is here and his expression becomes amused. I make my way to the table, letting the door close slowly on it's own and gather the loose papers looking them over once more before handing them off. He thanks me and leaves without another word.

"Who was it?" Eric asks, when I re-enter the room and turn on the bebedside lamp. He sits up while rubbing his face and blinks his blue-gray eyes at me sleepily, giving me a crooked grin.

Apparently completely passed his overly sensitive outburst from a few hours ago.

I press my palms into my eyes before sliding back under the blankets. Eric sighs contentedly and wraps his arms around my waist, and presses himself closer renewing warmth as if by duty.

"Falen." I yawn. "We have to go-"

"We?" He asks slyly while brushing his lips against my neck as he slowly slides a hand under my shirt and up my side, his palm runs over my stomach and ribs, pushing me onto my back. "I like when you say we." He mumbles with a mocking tone, moving his mouth against my jaw, tracing his fingers along the hem of my bra.

"30 minutes." I state informatively but I yawn again, while covering my mouth to stifle it. I'm unusually tired this morning although I normally wake early. "His office."

" _We_ should get ready then, and. . . _We_ should get some coffee." Eric says with a chuckle, at his blatant overuse of the word 'We' and possibly at my apparent unwillingness to get up, his offer for coffee may also be because of my yawn. "Then afterwards _we_ could get some breakfast or _we_ could come back here and. . . Alright, it got old, I'll stop." He laughs when I turn over onto my side facing away from him.

The sound rumbles in his chest, and there is a genuine ring to it that I dislike. He doesn't seem to mind my indifference towards him and his behavior ranges widely regardless of my reactions to it.

"Get up Genie, _we_ have so much to do today." Eric throws the comforters off us both and climbs out of bed, and within moments clothes are being thrown at me, a fresh shirt and a pair of pants, then a belt.

* * *

Rather than have enough time to get coffee I remained in bed till Eric complained, donned his boots, stomped all over the sheets with them and stripped the bed of it's comforters, his slightly energetic mood is now a little more lethargic without caffeine and irate at my waste of his 'We' time.

I've never met someone so _violently_ petulant. Even Amar, no even Gabriel shows restraint in his antics.

My mood however has soured _mainly_ due to the conversation that continues to rise and fall in volume around me but, the longer the discussion goes, the more Eric's mood improves and currently he is in a much better temper than when he had started the day.

"I was probably the only one that thought it was horrible timing." Max says haughtily, he snuffs his already completely burned out cigarette in the palm of his hand. "I mean you have to admit, Dauntfest has just-"

"Oh don't make this about timing, Dauntfest doesn't give us an excuse to shirk our responsibilities." Falen argues at Max before turning his hazel eyes on me. "It was suggested as a way to benefit Dauntless, if there were any way that this decision would prove detriment it would never have even been considered. "

I fail to see how implementing Eric's ideas for next years initiation process would benefit Dauntless, rather, I can think of several ways that this could prove detriment, but I do find it slightly sobering that they should want my approval and cooperation even though technically i'm excluded and they certainly don't need _my_ permission.

If these were decisions that they deemed necessary or appropriate for the betterment and security of Dauntless, there is nothing I can dispute. Especially in my position and now that Falen has decided 'maybe Dauntless could use a change'.

They are my superiors, no longer colleagues at the moment but they are still respectful in _notifying_ me at least, and I _am_ appreciative of that but I suppose it's also because they _expect_ me to assist him in the fine details and over look his proposed method in monitoring progress among initiates, although I'm unable to offer any changes.

In a way I had anticipated this and yet I hadn't the slightest inkling as to how quickly Jeanine would take advantage of my 'Probation.'

It's literally the _first_ day.

Eric smiles widely at me, exposing rows of his flashy white teeth, while he leans comfortably against the wall, he raises his arm to read the time on my watch tauntingly, before recrossing them over his chest. Whenever my eyes fall to him, he does this to add emphasis to how I am unable to pacify my habit.

To my credit I haven't had the urge to check the time since this morning.

I sigh deeply and run my fingers through my hair to push the stray strands away from my face before resting my cheek in my palm.

Eric is driven by emotion and hormones, _highly_ volatile, with a little too much information at his disposal.

I can find no reason why he should be considered appropriate for Leadership but obviously, this forum isn't a deliberation, it's a _briefing_ for my 'consideration'. Absolutely ridiculous.

Although I cannot deny that now that that I think of it, his idea's seem slightly non-Erudite in nature, this one would encourage brutality and foster competition, to produce only the _best_ initiates. It would promote the big, strong and reckless over smart and brave, his new system would also be favoring _only_ the most determined to become Dauntless. The threat of faction-less would also increase motivation.

It's not exactly aligning with our manifesto but it isn't necessarily a permanent change, it can always be reverted or altered based on it's success or failure.

Maybe I _am_ just paranoid.

The faction's have co-existed peacefully for longer than I've existed, and Eric seems hardly focused in tipping that balance in Erudite's favor, as he's busy inconveniencing me and playing in his fancies and bizarre behaviors.

Falen lean's forward in his chair and snuffs his cigarette out on the desk. "Alright, well, we're done here, leadership course start at 6, it's a short day in observance of Dauntfest." He reminds before waving his hand dismissively. "During that time Gene you can-"

"Oh, I'm sure she'd be happy to join us today." Max interjects, raising his brow at me. "They've got some shitty computer exam, you can see what you're missing out on." He jerks his thumb at Eric who nods. "It's not like you have anything better to do."

"I'll manage." I reply flatly, voicing my rejection, it's too late to participate and I would much rather not watch a bunch of people typing away or staring blankly into computer screens.

Max rolls his eyes and Falen nods but neither press the matter further. I already understand the guidelines and restrictions so they don't need to remind me.

"You _should_ come." Eric says snidely. "Besides, computer related exercises means. . . _Lauren_ will be there." He raises his blue-gray eyes to mine and smirks. It's seems he's becoming more arrogant with recognition. "It would also be a good chance to go over what your initiation experience might be like with me as a proctor. . ."

"Get out." Falen says with palpable disdain. "And give her the watch back." He adds shooting Eric an authoritative glance."You look ridiculous wearing two."

Falen is also observant, and as the oldest he must have the least patience with childish notions.

Max laughs before snuffing his newly lit cigarette out in the palm of his hand and stretches his arms over his head. "At least they're getting along. . ."

" _She_ doesn't mind if hold onto it for a while." Eric replies with a complacent shrug while holding the door open.

Max gives me a questioning look that I return with a hand wave to express that I don't mind, as long as Eric is at least partly pacified. Arguing just encourages him.

"By the way Genie, it's only 5:36 A.M." He adds while glancing at his own watch, I make no move to get up. " _We_ could still get c-"

"How about _we_ get some coffee, Eric." Max imposes, clamping a hand onto his shoulder. " _We_ could get to know each other better." He grins.

Eric shrugs his acceptance but it was hardly an offer, more of an indisputable command. He has the sense not to wait for a response from me and they leave together.

"This year was no doubt trying for you." Falen starts with a conversational tone, jumping right into an unrelated topic as soon as the door is shut. He pushes against his desk, to roll his chair back to open a drawer. "Well, for _all_ of us."

" _Every_ year is trying." I reply with a solemn tone, before sliding to the end of my chair.

He nods in agreement, placing his keys and tablet into his pocket, he is preparing to leave which indicates that this conversation may not be a long one but he becomes distracted from it while searching drawers and rummaging through unorganized files and documents.

I wait patiently tapping my fingers against the armrest.

"I realize it may be. . .Disrespectful to have Eric observe you but given the circumstances you can understand the precautions, right?" He asks.

I nod, because I do understand, I was also given the impression that it would be a good opportunity to watch Eric. I have half the mind to think this may also be premise for them to implement his ideas.

"Although its unprecedented, our concern was _your_ well being and state of. . .Mind, we only have so few left. . ." He trails off. "You know we all have ways to deal with it. Smoking, drinking. . .Over time it builds up."

It must have been what Eric had hinted at when he said that Jeanine wasn't the one interested in my behaviors. It doesn't bother me, it wouldn't bother me much if Jeanine found out I dislike carrots either.

"I want you you to go over this carefully though, and take into account how you _feel_ , not just what you _think_ when making decisions." Falen says, he tosses me my confiscated key ring with various keys removed and stands to hand me a neatly folded note from over his desk.

I nod my head slowly and stand to receive it, and put them both in my pocket.

It's obvious that this has to do with what Eric has observed of me or reported, whatever this task, it may be to re-focus me or gauge my inclinations.

But I'm unsure what to make of his suggestion as I've not read the note and it is apparent that he does not mean to give me the time to at the moment.

"It is a little unorthodox, as your instructions are not specific, but it's intentional to give you options." Falen explains, gesturing for me to exit with him. "The _outcome_ , no matter your choices, will result in your exclusion from this coming year but we'll also end your probation."

His tone suggests that they've done me a _favor._ His hazel eyes become soft and a smile spreads across his face, and I become confused.

"I won't need to have Eric follow me?" I inquire passively. He shakes his head and says that I _misunderstand_.

"Eric is here to make everyone's lives easier, _including_ yours." Falen jokes with a shrug, I rub my temples at his reference to what Jeanine had said. "After reviewing how you two had managed to work some agreement where he ' _covered_ ' for you, we thought it might be premise for a future. . .I don't know, _partnership."_

 _"_ Partnership _."_ I scoff. "You've only based it off of that one-"

 _"_ But of course." He cuts in. "We'll see how this effects _Dauntless_ while you take some time to. . .Unwind, or however you deal with stress and we'll see how you _feel_ about it _after_ your initiation."

My frown becomes the most prominently felt feature on my face and Falen chuckles lightly.

"Anyway, if you have questions, which I'm sure you will, feel free to come find me _or_ Max." Falen adds while opening the door, he pauses. "It may be best not to divulge the contents of that note with your _boyfriend_ though, despite what you _will_ come to suspect, he's had no direct involvement or knowledge of it."

* * *

"What is that? A love note?" Kat asks me deviously while sliding into the bench across from me with her breakfast.

I respond with a sigh before tearing the paper into as many pieces as possible, the morning congestion of people have begun filtering into the cafeteria and the sounds of ambient everyday chattering start up around me.

"Not a good morning for you?" She asks distractedly, while stabbing at the food on her plate.

"Its not a bad morning." I admit with a shrug, while placing bits of paper on my tongue and she starts laughing, no doubt at my bizarre behavior.

I've memorized each word and my mind has set out to decipher the cryptic text and yet, I am vaguely taking into account Falen's suggestion.

Not in a literal sense as I know physically eating the note will offer no deeper understanding but I _feel_ like disposing of it in this way.

It came highly unanticipated, and I find myself unable to understand his _exact_ meaning. I'll have to deliberate the message and words closely.

"Oh my- don't eat paper Gene!" Jackie squeals before giggling, she has a perpetual blush on her cheeks but she does not appear feverish in temperature when she catches my hand as I'm about to put another piece between my lips.

Kat takes a sip of my coffee, her face scrunches up and she spews it forth spraying me with the lukewarm liquid. I flinch, momentarily dazed before wiping at the stray drops that had managed to get my face and neck.

I should've warned her.

"Ewww, Kat, what the hell? You got it everywhere." Jackie sputters, they both begin laughing while I wipe the table with my jacket sleeve to clean her mess before the dark coffee can stain the tabletop, although, it is already decorated with years of old food spills.

"It tastes like shiiiiiit." Kat exclaims before sticking her tongue out and scraping her fork against it, she looks at me accusingly.

"Black with 2 scoops of sugar. No spit." I respond before retrieving my coffee to take my own sip, my response elicited more laughter from them.

The taste is absolutely abhorrent, the bitterness mixes with the sting of sweet at the end, twisting into a chaotic pungent flavor without milk or cream to dilute it but, it effectively wakes me up.

I dismiss myself for a shower, despite their complaints and assurance that the smell of coffee isn't too strong. I had not taken one this morning, and cold water may help me with my thoughts and everything else.

They give me a time limit to return, which I accept, although I do not hear what they've decided as a punishment should I fail to be back within their allotted time frame. Something about rainbow hair or facial piercings.

I'd think after years of time management I would know how long 30 minutes is without a watch, but I find that I don't have the slightest inkling as to what time it is now, other than 'morning time'. I still haven't had the urge to check or ask.

* * *

I open my door and immediately lock it behind me, to begin searching my room.

Every corner and potential hidden areas. My closet, between mattresses, I pull out my drawers, my bedside table, search the kitchen, bathroom, couch, the vents. I search everything. My hands dissect everything. Turning them inside out but putting them neatly back as if untouched.

 _You'll find what you need, search for what you lost._

When I find a vial of white liquid, identified as propofol by the oily smell and texture, and my mask, I feel slightly reprehensible.

They were the only items in the room that were all hidden, spread in different areas. These enough would be highly incriminating if discovered, by someone other than me.

Eric could have found these if he had done a thorough search himself, if he had not trusted Max to confiscate everything and yet he could also have given Falen the opportunity to plant these items during the time that he had taken me out of Dauntless the night before.

It would be remiss to not suspect him, given the circumstances.

But Falen had told me that Eric had no involvement, and had anticipated that I would suspect Eric.

I turn it around in my hands and stare at it, there is no mistaking it.

This is the very mask that I _left_ inside that faction-less nest, along with the vial but I had burned my bag and its remaining contents. I vaguely wonder what this could potentially mean.

Of how they were reacquired, by _whom_ , and _when_.

Eric assisted me those nights, more or less, but I had not told him where I had gone and I know for a fact that he did not follow me, but I cannot investigate, not without clearance to look through old surveillance or asking Max, or even Falen directly.

Which I plan to do.

I've searched for what I've _lost_ but, I've not found anything that I _need_ in particular.

 _Use what you've lost but you may loose what you need._

If I use these items, I may lose what I need?

I've never needed anything, or perhaps I'll find what I need at the location at the given time and if I use these items to get there. . .This is not an easy thing to solve, and my mind always takes precedence over everything else.

 _3.A.M At a place between your head and your home, far above them both._

My home would be Dauntless and although I would hate to admit, my head may be referring to Erudite.

But the ability to think isn't _exclusive_ to Erudite. . .Maybe he means to _stop_ overthinking and go with just how I feel entirely. It doesn't make exact sense as some of the note is rather specific whereas the rest is vague.

Directly between the two. _Head and home_ , going from the exit I frequently use in the restricted section, per the keys he gave me acting as a hint, is an old apartment complex building slightly taller than the buildings around it, with a view of _both_ compounds.

I sigh deeply and place the items in the false back panel of my bedside table.

Eric shouldn't find it, not if I'm with him all day, _assuming_ he doesn't already know they are in my possession. I'm still particularly inclined to suspecting him given the circumstances and coincidences.

Although, I'll need a syringe and new gloves. Possibly also my watch back as well.

Whatever the reason behind this, I don't fear the outcome or consequences of pursuing it. If it is not detriment to Dauntless then it should be acceptable, the personal nature of the note also adds reasonable inferiority, as far as my well being is concerned which is not directly important to Dauntless anyway.

There is a possibility that the task is simply to reestablish my sense of duty to Dauntless, assuage my doubts, hesitations and reluctance.

As the last line of the note simply says:

 _Remember,_

Our purpose was always made clear, everything I'd done, everything I do has always been for Dauntless and the city. I haven't forgotten _that_.

There has never been another time, nor another me. . .Until now, maybe.

Unless, that is why I constantly check the time. I've always had the _feeling_ of waiting, but for what, I cannot begin to fathom.

I rub my bare wrist blankly, it's strange how it still _feels_ weighted by a watch even though I _know_ I don't have one on.

I _feel_ like I have one, but I _know_ that I don't.

* * *

"Gene, Kat." Amar greets warmly ruffling my still damp hair. "What's up kiddos?" He adds to the rest of the occupants at the table.

He get's muffed greetings from Shauna and Ash, whereas Mia had her face down on the tabletop and only offered a loud grunt.

"Nothing much." Jackie responds tersely, smoothing down the parts of my hair that he had mussed, as she was currently weaving a braid, or several. I'm unsure.

I continue to push various bits of food around with my fork. "Where did all the guys go, I thought they were with you?" She asks curiously.

Kat ignores everyone around her as she purses her lips together, peering into a small hand mirror.

The make-up she applies isn't particularly heavy, the pale orange colored lipstick matches her dark orange hair, and the eyeliner around her eyes hides the faint bluish circles around them.

Most of Dauntless have tired eyes, including Jackie and Amar and yet they are all up early, ready to begin drinking all over again for the sake of Dauntfest.

I know it is more meaningful than just alcohol but I find myself wondering if drinking truly helps people forget or if it is Dauntfest that reminds them again just so they can re-forget. If anything alcohol would remind them of what they are trying to forget as well. A never ending circle of reminders and forgetting.

"They were, and that's actually why I came." Amar admits with a devious grin.

He invites everyone to another of their snow-war games where he wishes to pit the girls against the boys. The grounds is _technically_ still part of Dauntless' compound and I have reason to believe the leaders would be lenient.

As they did give me a task off grounds and my keys back.

I listen intently to the sounds of groans, and of enthusiasm and when Amar begins to persuade me into going he becomes distracted before I can voice my acceptance.

"Hey, good morning, Eric." He says and I vaguely hear the sound of clomping footsteps approaching, they are not loud but I am not oblivious to the arrogant noise and the obvious implication that leadership courses have concluded for the day.

Eric greets him back with a friendly countenance and the invitation is extended to him as well.

"Actually Gene isn't feeling too well today." Eric lies blatantly and Kat gives me a raised brow. I turn in my seat to face him, disregarding Jackie still working in my hair and he gives me a mockingly perturbed expression.

He is unable to fake concern or fake anything as well as as he thinks.

"I was told you went to the infirmary, are you alright?" He asks placing his hand on my shoulder, pressing his thumb into my old wound with probable intent to harm.

It has become more irritable of late but not impossible to ignore, much like him. After that day where he bothered be beyond belief I decided he would never effect me in that way again, no matter how trying he may become.

"Gene never goes to the infirmary." Amar says tilting his head at me, his expression is one of genuine concern but his tone is slightly joking with a curling smile. "Are you _dying_?"

Jackie places the back of her hand against my forehead and the others begin to voice their unwarranted concerns as well, even Mia.

"Oh please, get her some _alcohol_." Kat exclaims and several people laugh, she winks at me. "It's just a little snow."

I reply with an exhausted sigh, I've not lost their old joke, although, rain _has_ become snow. "I appreciate your concern Eric, but I'm fine." I fix my gaze on his steely blue-gray eyes and remove his hand. " _We_ should join, it might be good for _you_ to be more social."

"If that's what you _want._ " Eric says with a shrug, his expression becomes darkly amused.

"Well there we go then! We've got a full party." Amar says and he is clearly pleased, he ruffles my hair again playfully and Jackie hisses at him.

* * *

"Tell me why you went to the infirmary." Eric demands for the second time, he steps in front of my closet with his hand outstretched to prevent me from retrieving a jacket.

"My shoulder." I reply flatly this time, although he hardly has authority over me to make such demands. His blue-gray eyes narrow, unconvinced, and I sigh before pulling my shirt collar and bra strap to the side.

I had gone for other reasons of course but I also acquired an antibacterial ointment in anticipation for this.

Eric scrutinizes it closely and prods the slightly red irritated flesh around the stitches, there is no particular smell over the faint pungent odor of the ointment, or pain and the itch has been assuaged, replaced by a numbing tingling sensation.

"It doesn't look _too_ bad." Eric admonishes before he pinches his fingers between skin and string, creating a burning sting as he separates the flesh that had begun knitting itself together, disrupting the healing process.

I grit my teeth offering only a dull expression while waving his hand away, and sidestep him to grab the first jacket I touch. I disregard the hanger that gets pulled and falls to the ground when I remove it from the rack. "Some measure of civility and restraint from your end would be _appreciated_."

"Oh really?" Eric asks tauntingly as he snatches the jacket, only to hold it up as though he intends to assist me in putting it on, I did not mean for him to be civil immediately. He tilts his head impatiently, and I accept his unwanted help, sliding my arms through the sleeves.

As soon as the jacket is on he curls a hand around the column of my neck from behind, pulling me against him, his other hand moves around my waist to band his arm around me, holding me firmly.

Although my first instinct would be to stop the hand that threatens air, instead I place my hand over his other and I begin to unclasp the watch from his wrist in a blatant underestimation of him.

He laughs directly into my ear, but closes the circle of his hand around my throat tightly. When the watch is secure, I raise my boot and stomp onto his and elbow him in the side, leaning back to take advantage of his loosening grip in an attempt to turn out of his hold, but he releases me with no apparent hostility left in his countenance.

As though he merely meant to _hand_ the watch over. I don't see why he couldn't have just returned it.

"You hit hard." Eric says with an impressed tone, while rubbing over his side but he wears a wide toothy grin, his blue-gray eyes are bright. "You're welcome."

I ignore him and strap the watch to my wrist, it isn't mine so I will have to verify the time but it has the same weight and feel, not that it poses a difference, neither weight or feel has any direct effect to the time.

Eric leaves the apartment assuring me that he will 'be right back', and not to leave without him. I had not asked or expressed any interest in whether or not he was even here to begin with, but it gives me enough time to produce and prepare the disposable syringe.

I am anticipating only one uninvited guest tonight but, I find myself just a bit reluctant to use it. I'm unable to discern if that means that I _shouldn't_.

Maybe that's what Falen meant.

I pause for a long moment in waiting but my mind takes over and thinks of all the possible ramifications and the outcomes of use or not using.

Also how aggravating the individual is, and I decide it really depends on the situation and time, I'll probably _feel_ differently.

When the apartment door begins to open again, I store the syringe into the drawer panel and pull the zipper of my jacket up while leaving the bedroom, closing the door behind me.

"Ready for war?" Eric asks tauntingly, while leaning in the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest, he has gloves tucked half into his jacket pocket.

I offer only a dull un-amused expression at his double sided words and take his gloves, sliding them onto my hands, his blue-gray eyes watch me intently and he grins widely at my act of larceny. I reciprocate my theft by zipping his jacket for him, he had already wrapped my scarf around his neck.

"Pretense, Eric." I state firmly, before adjusting my jacket collar and pulling my hair out from beneath it.

"Of course, Genie." Eric replies while holding the door open further, he smiles patiently. "But, you don't have to hold back on my account. There's no threat of _me_ becoming attached to _you_." He places a hand over his chest, and trails his finger in an X motion, 'crossing his heart'.

"Duly noted." I reply passively before exiting into the empty hall, waiting for him to lock the door behind him. He has two keys, although he should only have one, to his _own_ apartment.

I check the time impatiently, as he takes his.

12:56 A.M.

"So . . ." Eric starts conversationally as he slides his hand into mine, lacing his fingers between my own. The gloves provide adequate cover between our skin. "I guess now would be a good time to tell you that my watch is _2_ minutes _early_."

* * *

 _You'll find what you need, search for what you lost._

 _Use what you've lost but you may lose what you need_

 _3.A.M_

 _At a place between your head and your home, far above them both._

 _Remember,_


	13. Snowman

**ATTENTION: Chapter was _rewritten._ Again _._**

Sorry, tried to cut some out. . .Stay on point. Let me know what you think.

Thanks for your patience and for reading!

* * *

The weather outside is bright, the air is cold and crisp without a single breeze, it's stillness fills my lungs completely, burning fresh and cold with each inhale.

It's not snowing today, in fact its clear. Instead of dark and dreary the sky is a pristine blue with puffs of clouds stretching over the gray-white expanse below.

There are sounds of soft crunches, footfalls from our boots leaving fresh footprints in the overnight snow and very little of the ground is untrod-den, slush packed against the concrete and asphalt with every step.

The distant city remains motionless around us, tall looming buildings and their undisturbed snowy roofs, their insides as quiet and abandoned as their exteriors.

I take a moment to spy the aerials and flattops of abandoned apartments in the distance. They have become new forms as the windows glisten and sparkle with the early sunlight and crystal ice.

Occasionally everything becomes quieter, almost muffled and slow as I immerse myself in the outdoor scenery, dreary, beautiful but, sad in a way.

There is a sense of eerie hush in the almost barren atmosphere, only interrupted by the crush of a snowball, cold and wet against the fabric of my clothing exploding around me to bring me back into focus.

I've not thrown any myself but I've become a popular target.

Kat and Jackie implore me to build snowmen with them and when they start pleading incessantly and relentlessly. I accept.

These lonely, cold beings will melt away as the weather becomes warmer throughout the week, all that will be left is the grey, dirty slush and the memories of another rare day in the winter.

* * *

"The proportions are all wrong." Eric complains haughtily, from where he stands, leaning against the Ferris Wheel platform, his arms crossed over his chest. "Look at that, they've made around 3 and you've made. . .I'm not even sure you can call _that_ a snowman."

I ignore him and smooth the top to place a rounded ball of slush as the head but it _is_ the same size as the torso and I've not rounded it well enough, which to Eric's credit _does_ make it look disproportionate.

This is not something I find that I'm overly skilled at, but it's not something I've actively participated in, rather than watched, and I'm finding it difficult in comparison, to create something, even with people to mimic.

Without gloves the frigid slush bites into the skin of my fingers, through the flesh, straight to bone till they are rigid and stiff, I glance over at the other snowmen being built.

Another thing I'm I'll suited for.

"Don't be such a jerk." Kat chastises, she throws a snowball at him, only to miss. "Gene _don't_ listen to him alright? It doesn't _have_ to be a snowman, your snow. . . _Thing_ , looks beautiful." She jokes, showing her tongue at me.

They laugh while I huff exasperatedly and push the head back off to begin again, it falls and smashes open over the lip of my boot, wet and heavy.

I shake it off and crouch down to brush the rest away and cup a fresh ammount and begin reforming it into a new head.

"Surprise attack bitches!" Amar bellows and crashes into my nearly completed piece, toppling me over in the process. I fall onto my backside into a mound of discarded snow.

He laughs out, bright brown eyes and frost toussled hair, flailing in the remains of my decapitated snow person, kicking the slush everywhere in a flurry of sporadic movement.

I blink at him, momentarily dazed and push onto my hands and knees to move away from the spray of coldness pelting my jacket and face, while dodging his assault.

Kat and Jackie begin burying him, restraining his kicking and grasping hands while I slowly stand to brush myself off, swallowing thickly at the lump in my throat.

I wade my way over to the Ferris Wheel foundation, despite the sounds of him calling for assistance with raucous pleading, peels of laughter mixed with their playful giggles.

"You're the one that wanted to come out here." Eric reminds when I cup my hands to breathe hot air into them and use friction to conduct warmth. "Is it possible that you wanted the _rest_ of you to be as cold as your heart?"

I pause a moment before answering. "I thought I was heart _less_." My voice is level and I take a measured step closer to him.

Eric extends one of his hands out to me as an offer and I pull the glove off it. He removes the other himself while I begin to slide the first on.

He had _taken_ them back, rather forcefully when the game began, saying that I need to _'work for them_ '. I'd not argued, his dark humor is unappreciated and better ignored.

"So you've _finally_ admitted." Eric grins before brushing stray bits of frost off the top of my head flippantly, remnants of the snow thrown around by Amar. "No need to be so _modest_ about it, Genie."

"Ambush!" I turn, diverting my attention away from Eric to watch as Amar flees, yelling at the top of his lungs when Joseph and Shauna chase after him, hurling over the other snowmen and they begin throwing snowballs again.

Jackie gives me a sly wink, her face flushed. Everyone in sight is covered from head to boot in glittering frost, with bright eyes and white breath.

Kat waves impatiently for me to join them with a vibrant inviting smile, I motion that I'll be a moment and she rolls her eyes, frowning instantly.

I sigh deeply, running my hand through my hair before putting the second glove on, snug over each finger and I curl them, feeling the resistance of my stiff limbs just as the tingling of feeling starts in them.

I'm finding that I am actually reluctant to participate in more of their recreational merriment. It's difficult, and becomes more so every time.

Yet, I _was_ the one that agreed to it, like I used to, without a second thought. But it's not the same.

Eric circles his arms around my waist from behind, pulling me to him as he rests back against the platforms edge, settling comfortably. "You did _her_ a favor." He says lowly pressing his cheek to mine, he scratches his stubble against my jaw. "Too bad she doesn't even realize it."

I grit my teeth and as soon as I pull on his sleeves to disentangle him, he buries his face into my neck, closing his teeth over skin above my collar, below my ear.

My first instinct is to stomp his boot but instead I remain still, he _expects_ me to retaliate.

After a moment he huffs with palpable annoyance, scraping his tongue and lips over the site, before releasing me with a shove.

"I'm _hungry_. . ." He complains audibly with mocking disdain as I stagger forward and spin to face him. "You should really be more considerate of your _boyfriend_." Eric admonishes with a low laugh before running his tongue over his canines, he wipes at his bottom lip with a thumb and grins widely. "Oh, and there are _other_ ways to help someone sleep at night you know."

" _You_ have difficulty sleeping?" I inquire with a bored expression, implying that I'd have used it on him.

I remove a glove to press my fingers over the indents that fit his incisors. It's _deep_ , near enough to be painful and I can feel the blood pulsing beneath the pinched flesh as if ready to spill forth at the slightest nick.

"Nope, not at all." He shrugs complacently, resting back again. "And I know _you_ don't either."

"Then you shouldn't have anything to wo-"

"But. . .We _could_ always stay up and. . .' _Work'_ through my remaining 9 fears. . ." Eric offers with a sly grin exposing his teeth in a menacing fashion, tilting his head before re-crossing his arms over his chest. "Fear can be a potent aphrodisiac." He shudders.

I shake my head slowly with a scoff. A putrid taste spreads over my pallet and I drag my tongue across the back of my teeth. My actions ave no doubt wrought undesirable side-effects.

"How about we start on _yours_ instead then." Eric replies simply, seemingly un-phased by rejection, as usual. " _Max_ tells me they range from _laughable_ to extremely. . . _Violent_. Although, I can't imagine how they could range so widely if you have so _little_."

I stare un-amused, at his bright blue-gray eyes and smug countenance. Despite my effort for calm, I slide my hands into my jacket pockets, curling them into tight fists with my nails digging into the cool leather gloves.

A swirling dark smoky feeling arises, and I swallow thickly.

It's much different than the taste of my petulance and not so easily assuaged, even trying _not_ to imagine clawed into his warm flesh. I take a deep steadying breath.

* * *

"Eric wait outside. . .Or go. . .Do something productive." Falen sighs, rubbing his temples before he slides the tablet he was working over to the edge of his desk. He snuffs his seemingly neglected cigarette out in the ashtray that sits precariously balanced on the keyboard of his computer.

I pull the scarf from around my neck and throw them into Eric's outstretched hand, along with the gloves and he laughs at my lack of patience while sliding out the door obediently, dismissing himself with an over-exaggerated bow.

To Falen we must just look like bickering children.

The office air is musty, and stale with a hint of alcohol lingering like an afterthought, mixed into the hazy bit of smoke dispersing with every breath. The lack of windows or ventilation makes the room much less hospitable.

His wide desk is crowded with stacks of neglected papers, some scattered haphazardly but his computer is off and very little of his work space is organized. I can tell he must be taking a break from working them electronically into the system, it would explain his tired, and bored disposition.

Even I have a dislike for staring into screens for any extended period of time.

"Gene." Falen greets before gesturing for me to have a seat. I unzip my jacket and tap my fingertips against the armrests impatiently as though he should start at any moment, after all, he _had_ anticipated my imminent return.

Max was unavailable, somewhere, probably drinking and enjoying Dauntfest. I can find him later if needed.

Falen's brows furrow, his expression looks _genuinely_ displeased by something and he leans forward, curling his hands together on the desk in front of him as his hazel eyes scrutinize me with what seems to be _concern._

I raise my brow questioningly with the impression that it should otherwise be obvious as to why I'm here. Then, I become aware of the mark on my neck and I brush my hair over it.

The bruise is just high enough not to be covered by my jacket collar. It is easily concealed by my hair however, if not tucked behind my ear.

Falen slowly leans back and taps his fingers on the desk as if deliberating, the drumming sounds of each tap are hollow in the small space.

"Alright, I won't waste any time asking what that's all about. . .I'll just get on with the important stuff, straight to the point. . .I followed you, or well, went _after_ you that night." He admits, with a complacent shrug as though it's the simplest notion in the world. "I retrieved some of your belongings, obviously."

I frown and clamp my teeth together as he goes into minute detail of how and when he had arrived at the faction-less nest, as though he was observing a simple training exercise, or a simulation.

Not an actual situation, with impending consequences.

Falen chuckles lightly and jokes about it occasionally but it is in no way humorous to me, he rubs over his jaw and claps the edge of his desk.

"I moved you to a less. . .morbid scene and applied some snow to your wound, then instructed the Abnegation boy -when he came to, which was around 4, give or take- to do the same until you woke up, your injury didn't seem fatal -"

I continue to listen intently to his highly believable tale and begin to settle back into the leather chair thoughtfully lacing my fingers on my lap.

My determination to complete the task must have indeed aroused _some_ suspicion on their part and they felt the need to follow or shadow me which, is perfectly acceptable, actually, and he _had_ inadvertently assisted in my return to Dauntless.

"I explained that _I_ was the one that took out the murderer, while in search for you, a _runaway_ from Dauntless. . .I implored him to talk you into returning and not to mention that I was ever there. I mean as a leader of Dauntless it would seem pretty strange-" Falen drones.

That explains a lot.

How Todd didn't suspect me, or why he insisted I head back to Dauntless, although he'd not known it was my intention to. Also why he automatically assumed I was a victim, and even his assurance that he wouldn't tell anyone I was there.

Almost all of it is impressive, how quietly this was accomplished and without my knowledge. I never would have thought of it, or expected this either, I guess, I really haven't been overly attentive lately.

I'm not _focused_ and maybe, I haven't been for a while, of course they would notice. There is the matter of my turning down leadership, sifting through lesser jobs-

Maybe the task really _is_ simply to reestablish my sense of duty to Dauntless, assuage my doubts, hesitations and reluctance.

It would make perfect sense despite the vague instructions. I mean I still feel slightly skeptical acknowledging that they'd put me on 'probation' with such _consideration_ for me but, If they wanted me _dead_. I would be. Simple.

There would be no need for all this _excess._

"Gene, we're getting _old._ " Falen sighs. "You're still young. Like I said, this shit builds up over time, the task will help you focus on what you want-"

He becomes distracted and sighs exasperatedly at the frequent beeps coming from his tablet and I slide to the end of the chair in preparation to leave.

The image on the screen indicates that it they are incoming messages from Max, probably something ridiculously mundane, or only intended to annoy greatly as he has a sense of humor that tends to involve misuse of technology.

I check the time before standing to make my way to the door to give him the opportunity and privacy to deal with whatever has Max so excited.

This conversation ended up being a lot longer than I'd expected and I don't _need_ to hear the rest, he was coming to a close anyway. I find myself _wanting_ to go regardless, and nothing that is said will change my mind on that.

What I want. . .Well I would like a safe city, a secure fence and a strong reliable faction. But then, I can't fathom why they'd need to make the instructions so vague.

Surely I don't need to overthink it, not till 3 A.M. Everything should come to light in time.

"Gene." Falen calls almost hesitantly before I can exit. I turn back to him and close the door, raising my brow in question. "I was not able to overhear your conversation with Gordon, but, I wanted to ask, did he give you any other reason for wanting me gone?" He glances up over his tablet and I gauge his passive, almost, uninterested tone.

"Just your vote." I reply, as I've told them _before_. His question doesn't come completely unprecedented as it is slightly related to what we just discussed.

Although my answer isn't absolute, I _could_ share that Gordon thought him to be cowardly but, had he known Falen was actually there it might not have been so. I withheld it in front of Max out of _respect,_ and it was probably best that I did, as I didn't know he was there either.

"Thank you, Genesis." Falen says genuinely, with a solemn nod but there is absolutely _no_ reason to _thank_ me, I swallow thickly as a recognizable smoky taste fills my mouth and I shut the door behind me with a silent click, before breathing deeply.

Unless there were _other_ reasons. Reasons that don't involve me at all, and I'm just the one everyone is focused on _,_ drawing all the attention from. . .I rub my temples to stop from so grossly overthinking every single little detail.

Dauntless is fine, and for the _most_ part always has been but it's _me_ that's making myself inadvertently useless to it.

I check the watch idly not oblivious to the fact that it is the second time in less than 5 minutes, and I twist it loosely over my wrist. Its too big. It doesn't fit.

5:56 P.M

Eric's watch is 2 minutes ahead.

5:54 P.M.

* * *

After draping my jacket over my couch, I take the glass vase with the already waterlogged and abused crumpled flower off my table and pour it down my kitchen sink thoughtlessly before drying the inside using my shirt.

The glass is basic, like a cup and my fist fits perfectly inside, ending about 3 inches past my wrist bone if my knuckles are against the bottom.

I then remove everything out of my bedside drawer and place them inside the cylindrical vase, taking it to the bathroom.

With the door locked behind me I begin removing the tank cover of the toilet backing and use my nail to turn the screw on the flow rate adjustment to lower the water level, then flush it to remove all the water and test the new level.

When it reaches a very low height I place the vase inside, away from the essential parts and re-test the flush once more to make sure it doesn't overflow into the glass and still performs without indication of tampering.

Once satisfied I replace the tanks cover and wash my hands vigorously in the bathroom sink till my skin is raw and pink. I find that I'm more bothered by handling the mask and drug than I am with coming into contact with toilet innards.

If I decide _not_ to use them, at least I'm partly certain Eric won't find them and when I leave tonight I can dispose of them _permanently_.

Although, I wouldn't be too surprised if he did find them, no, he _will._ There is just no telling what _he_ would do with it.

I lean against the bathroom counter and for the first time in a very long time I take in my appearance. Icy-blue eyes, silver-gray hair, pasty pale skin and despite having slept well there are splotches of light purple under my eyes.

My black roots are also starting to show. It's just hair though, easily changed.

* * *

"Hey, Genie, do you mind?" Eric asks, holding up his jacket, the scarf and gloves. "I seem to have. . . _Misplaced_ _my keys_."

He gives me an annoyed expression, blue-gray eyes narrowing at me while sitting comfortably with Gabriel, Henry, and Sean in the scarcely crowded cafeteria. He had many other seating areas to choose from and his own acquaintances, yet he's chosen to sit with them.

I shrug my acceptance before taking everything from him into my arms and turn to leave with only a passing wave in greeting to the others.

His emphasis to the word misplaced and his sour mood would imply that he already knows I must be behind his disappearing keys.

"Genie!" Gabriel admonishes, I turn back to his voice as he stands. His ankle seems to be fairing well. "Get your ass back here, we we're _just_ talking about you." He pats an unoccupied space beside him and Sean.

I shoot Eric a questioning, un-amused glance and his mood seems to improve slightly, no doubt he's acquired more unimportant information to brandish at his leisure. Or he's eaten.

His expression becomes mockingly innocent with his brows raised, he holds his hands up as if to say he, in no way domineered the topic but the smug toothy smile betrays him.

"You never told me how proficient you are in _throwing_ knives." Eric chastises, before standing. It's apparent he means for me to join them as he places a hand to my lower back, regardless of the fact that he just handed me his jacket to store.

"Genie ain't got nothing on me though." Gabriel goats, pointing a thumb at himself, puffing his chest out. "Best of the bunch."

"Eric wasn't there that time when we. . .Were complete assholes." Sean says to me before swallowing thickly as though trying to explain the reasoning to their topic of discussion. "We were just talking about how we sorta met."

I slide into the seat Eric just vacated, and he moves in afterwards pushing me over with his hip till I sit directly between him and Henry while Sean decides to regale them of that rainy _day._ From the moment they entered the training room, almost fighting, and Amar pouring water over Mia, using words like 'hilarious and awesome.'

It was hardly as eventful as he makes it out to be.

I soften my features to something less of a glare, but more of a tired, bored stare and I vaguely wonder when the others might come in, or what they are doing at the moment. I didn't tell them I was heading back in.

The chatter and ambient noises of other cafeteria goers becomes faint background noise, hollow and faraway in my ears.

Forks scraping against plates, clatter of cups, the shuffling and clomping of boots on concrete. I pinch the metal zipper of the jacket between my fingers, running them back and forth over the jagged edges while listening, more or less.

"It's funny cause she was the only one to get sick." Gabriel laughs after Sean finishes his re-telling of the outdoor run in the torrential rain. "You were all like 'ugh'." He makes gagging noises in jest, and I press my elbows into the table, resting my chin on my hands. "I literally dragged her ass to the lounge."

"I _remember_." I admit with a nod and I tense at the unexpected hand on my thigh under the tables surface.

" _I_ remember that being one of _our_ first actual conversations." Eric says thoughtfully, I glance at him to see his head cocked to the side, propped up by his fist. "You mentioned you weren't feeling very well. . .I now know _exactly_ why." His mouth curls into a smile. "All because of a _little_ rain."

As always he plays precariously on obliviousness. I do however vaguely remember how recluse _Eric_ had been, the change is harshly apparent now that I deliberate it. For one we hardly exchanged more than a few words that day, or on any occasion before that.

"That was our first time playing Dare." Henry says with a proud smile, he runs a hand through his dark locks. "And I have got to tell you. . .It is way different from any of the games we played back in Candor."

"Fuck yeah." Sean agrees with enthusiastic fervor and they explain a game they call 'spin the bottle' despite the uninterested stares they receive from the latter. In their game they _literally_ spin a bottle and either kiss each other or- I don't hear most of the specifics as I stopped listening when he said kiss.

Gabriel motions with his hand, the sign for babbling incessantly, rolling his eyes and Eric looks positively bored, his pointer tapping my leg idly.

"That sounds fun and all, but, we don't play sissy Candor games in Dauntless." Gabriel admonishes with bravado. "Spinning an empty bottle? Pssh, give me a _full_ bottle and I'll spill my soul or kiss any girl, boy, woman, man, animal you point me at." He jokes raucously. "Pray they kiss me _back_!"

Those within vicinity of his vulgar declaration laugh, including Eric and I press my palms into my eyes gritting my teeth when he moves his hand higher up my thigh, tracing his fingers along the inner seam of my pants. "Eric." I admonish under my breath.

"Your friends are actually entertaining, I can see why you'd get attached to _them_." Eric comments leaning closer, it's a harmless enough statement that no one seems to construe as odd coming from him but it is extremely imperious.

" _We_ grew up together." Gabriel says gesturing between us enthusiastically, as if eager to make the distinction of how long he's known me in comparison. "Dauntless born! From diapers to dea-" Someone yells _Dauntfest_ somewhere and people begin pounding tables with fists or rattling their cups. Chanting. "Daunt-Fest! Daunt-Fest!"

The occupants at our table join in as well, their voices permeate the air clear and loud. Sean seems to be well versed in Dauntfest now. I take that opportunity to inconspicuously wrench Eric's hand off my leg before he can continue it's trek precariously higher.

He grips that hand, tightly, squeezing my fingers between his and places them intertwined on the table. I keep myself from clawing my nails into his skin in retaliation, his behavior is becoming much more forceful, and brazen as if _trying_ for a physical confrontation.

"Don't take offense but. . ." Henry says lowly when it quiets down, I give him my full attention, turning to him, angling away from Eric. "I was told you didn't do uh. . .Boyfriends. . . _relationships_ I mean, not that you like girls. . ." He laughs nervously before adverting his gaze.

I sigh and shrug, I'm sure Max and Falen know I don't need to be watched quite so closely. Surely they'd be lenient, should I need to distance myself from Eric for a while. Or _longer._

Gabriel uses obscene gestures to communicate with someone across the room and I become even less interested in remaining seated here, or in the conversation and the company when that draws attention to us. I circle my free arm around the bundle of clothing on the table and hug it to my chest.

"Obviously you heard wrong, _Henry_. She does her _boyfriend_ frequently." Eric proclaims casually, bringing my hand to his mouth, he presses his lips against my knuckles exhaling contentedly as though he did not just imply something so abhorrently licentious.

Henry's face becomes openly bewildered as he blushes profusely, and despite myself I dig my nails into the back of Eric's hand, he responds by pinching the skin of my knuckles between his teeth and grazing his leg against mine, to which I cross over my other to avoid using it.

"Eric." Interrupts a stern voice, with a hand to Eric's shoulder, claiming both our attentions. It's Paul, one of the alternative leadership candidates. "We've got a 'meeting' to go to, Fal asked me to come fetch you." He informs before nodding to me in greeting.

Eric frowns at him and releases me before standing. My attendance isn't required, probably optional as I wasn't informed personally during my meeting with Falen.

I make no move to get up and Eric smirks down at me with a taunting look before making an obvious show of placing his _keys_ into his pants pocket and retrieving the jacket, scarf and gloves from me.

"I'll take care of _these_." He assures before leaning in, his hand pressed to the table and the other curled around the clothing, he turns his head at me expectantly, _waiting._ Raising his brow as if adding emphasis. It's so insufferably pompous.

His blue-gray eyes narrow marginally as I slide a hand over the tattoos of his neck, till my fingertips reach his hairline, and my thumb brushes his earlobe.

I bring my face closer to his and he chuckles darkly when I place my mouth against the sharp stubble of his jaw.

"You guys are _so_ cute." Gabriel quips with gagging noises.

* * *

Feel free to message questions or anything. . .for that matter. . . Thanks for reviews, favorites and follows and most of all for reading.


	14. Pavo Cristatus

Read, review, let me know what you think. I appreciate it :)

* * *

It's only 7:15 P.M.

I check the time when I reach the elevators and punch the button for the fourth floor of Dauntless and follow the signs that lead to the control room, even though I already know the way. The signs are large and obvious, I follow them without really intending to.

The door is wide open and I'm greeted first by the scarce number of personnel working, less than 5 people sitting behind the row of bright screens with headphones secure over their ears.

Then I'm greeted by the smell of stale cigarette smoke and alcohol, as well as the sight of Gus slumped over his keyboard his head in his arms, folded as a pillow. His screen has a dialog box open with random numbers and letters typed in. He had fallen asleep and accidentally pressed keys. I contemplate waking him as a stream of X's and Z's continue to appear.

"Genie!" Zeke bellows, the others shoot scolding glares at him and he laughs, covering his mouth. "I thought you quit?" He whispers, but despite lowering his voice, he is naturally too loud.

I shrug in response and pull a chair over to the console next to him, and I accept his invitation to hang out with him and Shauna after he's done with his shift in less than 30 minutes. It's harmless enough.

He wheels over to another Dauntless who I don't identify and I work over to call up live security footage and circle through feeds until I find Dauntless' scarcely used conference room. Then I type in the command to take the footage out of rotation and unplug Zeke's neglected earphones from his monitor to listen to mine.

Max and Falen sit in wheeling chairs, both look authoritative despite how Max turns and ceases to remain still. Directly across from them sit the remaining leadership candidates, including the instructors for initiations and several of the depot handlers.

"What's going on there?" Zeke asks, wheeling his chair back next to me. I sigh deeply, and flip one headphone earpiece outwards and motion for him to listen in, he presses his ear against it and I turn the volume up with the dial on the side of the monitor.

They debate over the new initiation process and several new rules to be implemented in the coming year, currency/point and provisional limitations, increased patrol on the fence and other important items.

Falen and Max listen to complaints and concerns, directly addressing them one by one.

"Is it alright to be listening to this?" Zeke whispers harshly he pulls away and glances at Gus but even if Gus were attentive he wouldn't bat an eyelash.

The meeting is harmless, rules that are implemented are made known in time to _all_ Dauntless civilians and otherwise, even the new initiation process will be. It's not a _secret_ meeting, it's an informative one although I wasn't informed. I vaguely wonder if it was to give me a reprieve.

"Four would tell you anyway." I comment flatly. My eyes find Four and immediately notice his discomfort. Amar sits relaxed, next to him and nods his head along with someone's input on changing the currency limitation to a stricter monitoring, on budget and spending for each person.

Bud and Tori stand leaned against the wall observing silently as well, as they run the tattoo parlor together.

Zeke shrugs and presses his ear back to the inverted head piece to continue listening as they go through each topic. Occasionally he makes rude comments on someones appearance and jokes about Four's stiffness. Several of them do appear to be inebriated, drinking occurs at all hours of the day during Dauntfest.

When they talk about the new initiation process Zeke becomes flabbergasted. More than half approve and I strain my ears to listen, ignoring Zeke voicing his own concerns and his obvious disapproval.

Those that disagree include Amar, Four, a female leadership candidate Candice, and Warren the Dauntless-born instructor, everyone else just observes. They each argue and Falen listen's intently whereas, Max lights a cigar and props his boots on the conference desk.

Falen interrupts Warren from complaining about how much _more_ of an unfair advantage Dauntless-born initiates would have over transfers, to ask Four how he feels about it, as he's in training and it will be his first year instructing. He hasn't spoken _once_ since I started watching, and his expression is grim.

"One of our earlier lessons in leadership explained the initiation processes throughout the years. . .And this new one-" Zeke quiets down to listen with me, as Four confesses his concerns about the new process not aligning with Dauntless manifesto and how he feels that it is straying farther away from the original purpose, of inspiring ordinary acts of bravery and protecting the weak.

When Candice agrees with Four and mentions something about big, strong and reckless, that, and the lesson Four mentioned brings me to reevaluate my earlier musings on the topic from this morning. It is as if a realization has struck.

The person who _controls_ training, set's the standard for Dauntless behavior. The youngest leader is always tasked with the initiation methods, improving and making changes.

Four years ago the combat portion of training was brief and didn't include bare knuckled sparring. Initiates wore padding. The emphasis was on being strong and capable, and on developing camaraderie with other initiates.

Two years ago they made the change to cut out the padding, steering emphasis towards creating stronger and more capable initiates while developing restraint and mutual trust between them regardless of camaraderie. The thought of having rivalries was also admissible.

Eric mentioned once, how Dauntless is _filled_ with ' _brutes and crazy women_ ', and that failure wasn't an option for him.

Had he been _hinting_ at this long ago? _Foreshadowing_ this imminent change? His idea indeed _favors_ strong and reckless, which could also be construed quite _literally_ as brute and crazy.

I blink, confused, by what this could mean.

It was made quite obvious that Eric is proficient in the field of manipulation, an almost intimidatingly striking amount, _if_ he we're indeed capable of meticulously judging the actions of those around him and act accordingly to get to this point.

He had also been toying with me on occasion, with those notes, and predicting my actions or forcefully domineering a conversation.

Those books, observations, psychoanalysis, profiling, almost everything could've been meticulous, but, over such a long period of time?

I twist the headphone cord around my pointer finger and find him sitting perfectly at ease, tapping his boot idly several chairs away from Four.

He takes on the quality of a difficult, arrogant, egotistical child and yet, that may be his intention, to get me to purposely underestimate him.

Distract me, but from what?

My head spins with the arduous effort of untangling the many threads of thought filtering through my under-stimulated brain. It's much too complicated with way too many possibilities for me to come to a solid conclusion and I _am_ heavily biased. I always will be.

I take a deep steadying breath.

Falen and Max are not push overs, they are _reliable_ , they are leaders of Dauntless and hold their faction before themselves, as do I. The most important psychological attribute is the disposition of a leader, something they both have demonstrated countless times.

There is nothing Eric can do without their support or acknowledgement. Dauntless has and _always_ will be in capable hands. Just maybe not mine.

"Honestly, the thought of instructing and teaching transfers true bravery and standing up for the weak seems almost impossible if they're expected to compete _against_ each other." Four admits, hesitantly.

There are several murmurs of agreement, and I find that I agree also. He's right after all, the strong would just attempt to eliminate the weak to secure a spot in the limited availability. Relationships based on security instead of camaraderie would form and easily broken between transfers.

Dauntless-born I believe would no doubt remain congenial towards one another, having already built lasting relationships.

I remove the headphones, there is no need to listen further after Falen explains that it isn't necessarily a permanent change, and it can always be reverted or altered based on it's success or failure. Exactly like I thought and no one argues that because they all expect it to fail.

Zeke and I lean back in our chairs. "Wow, that's pretty nuts. . .At least there's _some_ good news, aye?" He says kicking back over to the corner of the room, he reaches from his chair to the locker where they store personal belongings before a shift, and rolls back over to me carrying a large glass bottle filled with some sort of brown liquid, holding it by the neck.

"This calls for some heavy drinking." He shakes the bottle at me with a wide grin on his face. " _Dauntfest. Hoorah!"_

I check my watch 7:43 P.M. I'd like a drink, it might help to stop me from overthinking so much.

* * *

I lay my head back and close my eyes, pressing my palms into the cold stone of the narrow ledge.

It's off-limits to individuals not in chasm maintenance to be down here but apparently Zeke's past date Maria, whose mother works in chasm maintenance had shown them this area a while back and they now frequent it.

We are on the other side of the chasm several feet above the water and from this distance the small dark figures milling around the railings are hardly distinguishable.

On a regular work shift we would have tall scraping tools to clean the gunk and trash that build up down here, along the walls and in the dark murky water. Sometimes discarded clothing, even food, or empty bottles like small boats float and bob along as though setting out on a journey.

But as this is a recreational visit it is just us, their alcohol and the ambient noise of rocking waves and lapping water.

Shauna and I sit shoulder to shoulder with our feet dangling off the edge and I feel the spray against my ankles as a larger wave hits the wall below us, our boots discarded at the door and pants rolled up to our knees.

Each wave is like cold hands reaching for us, the spray of their frigid fingers just brushing our dangling feet before receding back again, rendering us not untouchable but just close enough to remind us that we aren't.

It feels _wrong_ to intrude on their casual group, and I wouldn't normally, even my unusual behavior wouldn't consist of this but Zeke insisted fervently that I come along, and had I _known_ exactly where they intended on 'hanging out' I probably would've been more adamant in my _refusal_.

Suddenly indulging feels _traitorous._ I'm hesitant, reluctant, maybe even more so here. I recognize a tightness in my throat and I swallow thickly I'm growing accustomed to noticing them and some of the triggers, the more I do, the more effectively they can be ignored.

"It's nice down here." Shauna says handing the bottle off to Four, who lowers himself carefully onto a rock below the ledge, Zeke follows behind and they sit as close to the water as they dare without being submerged.

"Yeah." Four agrees before drinking deeply, he stares with dark, tired, brown eyes at the ripples reflecting flickering lights from the bulbs strung along the edges of the chasm, where the lights are wrapped around the railings. It seems oddly macabre from here.

The decoration illuminates the dreary abyss, like guiding lights tossing and dancing over the depths far below.

"Consider this act of drunkenness a big-" Zeke makes an obscene gesture towards the higher levels far above us. "You know, to the leaders and Eric." He says, but he turns to face me directly. "No offense." He laughs.

I wave my hand dismissively. "None taken." They have every right and are entitled to their own expressions, and I'm not oblivious to the how the new rules would effect them personally, and myself included. Plus I'm not unused to gossip and 'shit talking.' This is supposed to be the norm.

"Seriously though, Gene. . .Eric?" Shauna asks me with severe disdain in her voice, and she elbows me in the shoulder. "Of _all_ the guys, Eric?"

"It's complicated." I sigh exasperatedly, it's a harmless and benign enough confession and a rather true one at that.

"Boys." Shauna admonishes in agreement before handing me the bottle that Zeke had given her. "They make _everything_ complicated." I grasp it around the neck, wrapping my fingers around the narrow glass and take a deep gulp of the bitter amber liquid before wiping my mouth on the back of my hand.

I nod my head blankly, agreeing but not completely and take another smaller sip of the burning, stinging alcohol to wash down the other more putrid taste in my mouth before handing it back.

Shauna begins complaining about boys and their lack of brains where it counts and how women don't need men in their lives and that they should be grateful for our existence. I'm grateful that the topic shifted to her ranting, although, I don't feel the same way at all. It's obvious she's speaking solely from personal experience on the grievances of a boy.

"I mean _behind_ every great man is an even greater woman." Shauna declares firmly. "And they should respect us."

"That's why girls are the scariest fucking things alive." Zeke laughs, and slips, Four catches his arm before he can fall into the water but he nearly takes them both in. A fall from this height is harmless, they would just become thoroughly soaked and uncomfortable. "Cause you know, they can stab you in the back. . .Get it?"

Four shakes his head but a smile plays on his lips as Zeke and Shauna begin bickering on whether men or women are the more threatening sex, based on past transgressions and the way men have 'attention spans as far as you can throw them' or how women 'hold grudges over the smallest things like saying hi to another girl'.

The normalcy is soothing despite the trivial opinionated argument.

I let it fade in and out of my ears and rest my head back against the wall, closing my eyes against the glittering lights to focus only on the sounds of water lapping lazily against stone walls. I place my hand over my cheek, noticing the elevated temperature of my skin.

"Ugh, whatever, shut up." Shauna admonishes pushing Zeke's arm off her leg, he laughs like he's won their argument although I'm unsure of where it ended. "Gene what do you even talk about with _Eric_? I can't even imagine you talking. . .To someone like him. I didn't even hear how you guys met."

"He does most of the talking." I reply truthfully with a sigh. "I met him while volunteering-"

"What does _he_ talk about?" Zeke asks curiously. Four raises his brow at me, he's been unusually silent but, I suppose after that meeting he must be in a less than celebratory mood.

Shauna leans forward, interested and I shrug, realizing that he never really says anything conversational just vague. "His interests, I guess."

"You know he doesn't like Four right?. . . _Oh-shit_ , we should probably not tell him that you were with us." Zeke says suddenly distracted he glances around as though there is a possibility of getting caught. I already know there is no surveillance in this area.

"I won't say anything, if you guys don't." I assure, waving my hand dismissively before accepting the bottle again. If he finds out it won't be from any of us.

I check the time. 9:57 P.M.

* * *

The lounge is crowded, much so that the ground vibrates with boots shuffling over the ground. It's darker than usual tonight with soft ambient pulsing noises and loud chattering. Cups clanking, people laughing, the scent of excitement and alcohol, perfume the air heavily.

There is little space between bodies and I wonder why they decided to hang out here, it doesn't seem appealing in the least.

"Gene, where have you been!?" Kat asks with a bewildered tone as I slide into their booth after Shauna, Zeke and Four had split so as to appear un-associated with us.

I wave and shrug. "I was with Shauna." The others including her seem to be inebriated already, but Kat frowns, without pressing the matter further as Shauna tells her it was a secret hang-out and that.

Ash and Jackie very naturally try to include me in their conversation about make-up, although I don't wear any but I notice now, that everyone looks very flashy tonight, wearing new piercings and multicolored hair. I'm uncertain of the occasion for it, other than Dauntfest, of course.

Kat hands me a beverage, and I listen to her complaints about my lack of attentiveness to them. "I know." I sigh and she accepts my apologetic frown, before draping her arm over my shoulder to pull me tightly against her side.

My eyes travel around the room with the cold glass bottle against my cheek. I feel hot, suffocated, and I swallow thickly several times to get the acrid taste from my mouth, I'd rather not be here. That is apparent.

I find people around me, faces in the crowd.

Tori and Bud near the bar area just barely visible through the cacophony of movement, Amar bobbing around stealing fruit or sweets out of drinks and even Deidre without the usual babble of children around her.

Younger Dauntless and older Dauntless mingling, bickering, engaging in endless types of social conventions around me, naturally, flawlessly. I used to enjoy them, this, used to have even some modicum of humor. Maybe I should remember- or relearn, basic social skills, or at least attempt them _better_.

It's becoming slightly difficult engaging them, when my mind and insides are occupying themselves with one thing and my body another. I take a deep breath and lay my head back against Kat's arm and place the bottle on the table, resting my hand next to it with my fingers tracing the drops of precipitation on the glass surface.

Lynn perches herself on the backrest of the circular booth seating, across from me, throwing peanuts. They ricochet off jackets or land in hair, or the idle drinks of unsuspecting hands. Marlene giggles and claps at her feats, pointing out targets.

Ash leans over the side to converse with those in the booth adjacent to ours, talking about trivial things, everyday happenings in Dauntless. I catch mentions of the recent drama, couples, and fights.

Nothing has really changed _around_ me. It's all the same.

"You getting sick again?" Kat laughs, she pinches my cheek and pulls my face, I wave her hand away distractedly. "It's like you get sick every time you go outside."

I move my head side to side like she's not completely wrong. I doubt I'm really sick, just uncomfortable. I press my elbows into the table and my palm to my slightly clammy forehead and close my eyes, the dark changing lights are making my head throb.

Jackie hushes Kat, making rude remarks about Eric -assuming he's what's bothering me- to comment on my paleness, reclaiming my attention. Kat isn't wrong, but my focus is more centered. I'm not prepared for tonight.

I swallow thickly and shake my head, offering an 'I'm fine' before twisting the lid off the drink to take a sip, but it's more of an idle motion in reaction to their unwanted concerns. The fizzy soda bubbles over my tongue, crackling down my throat and my cheeks feel heated.

I check the time.

11:13 P.M.

"You know, I think the guys wanted to try out some game." Kat suggests, steering the conversation away, the others all express excitement over the idea, that elicits giggles and the like. Jackie already suspects the 'Candor bottle spinning game' and they all prepare to leave while she explains it to them, the mention of Sean brings a blush to her cheeks.

I sigh before standing with them, sure to bring my beverage and I file out behind them with every intention of going back to my apartment. I've no interest in playing a game of that sort and I'm actually uncertain where Eric is currently or what mood he's in, or even how I intend to leave Dauntless in several hours.

"Maybe you should go lie down or something." Kat says, stopping me with her arm extended out.

"Yeah, maybe." I agree and she laughs before placing her hand to my cheek briefly, I flinch like she's slapped me, I can feel her pulse beneath her skin, almost as cold as the bottle on the side of my face. When she removes it, it feels like it's still there and she comments on my temperature being slightly higher than normal.

"Get lots of rest! No playing with Eric tonight." Kat reprimands, with a tsk, noise and a finger wave. Jackie mentions that the game is for singles only anyway, and Lynn nudges me with her elbow, before imploring me to remember what color my puke is and tell her tomorrow at breakfast.

I must look worse than I thought.

After the parting 'good nights' and 'see you tomorrows', they turn off to head towards the Pit in search of the guys and I start in the opposite direction going down the hall. Vaguely wondering if I would be able to get some rest before leaving.

I stop at a drinking fountain and tuck the bottle under my arm to wash my hands, cupping the water, letting it pool in my palm and overflow between my fingers, I close my eyes to the sensation, of being unable to hold everything within them, especially something that isn't solid.

There really isn't anything there though, except liquids.

I touch the side of my cheek and shut my eyes tighter, the word. ' _Choose_.' a hollow echo in my skull that is only in my head, but it permeates the air as though it's being spoken aloud. What a strange thing to remember at a time like this.

The patter of raindrops against concrete, asphalt and the fabric of my jacket sound faintly in my ears softer than a heart beat. The feel of cold metal with my hand curled around it, and a cold breath in my lungs, escaping between my lips slow and even to the rise and fall of my chest.

A slap ringing loud and harsh, much, much, louder than the sound of a single gunshot piercing my consciousness. I blink once. Flinching. Still in front of the drinking fountain, and I blink several more times, dazed. Till I refocus my surroundings.

Maybe I've drank a little too much.

I release the cold metal, rim of the fountain bowl and curl my slightly numb fingers before running them through my hair, letting out another deep breath, and cupping my cheek, I've not been slapped, but it almost feels like I have.

* * *

I unlock my door and open it slowly, the soft click sounding as the metal slides out and the silent scrape of the door against the frame is grating and familiar. I half expect Eric to be inside as he managed to frisk his keys back. I flick the light switch on before entering and shut the door quietly behind me, locking it.

Everything in my room is perfectly in place, except the scarf, gloves and Eric's jacket draped over the back of the couch which indicates that he was here.

My bedroom door and spare bedroom door are closed and everything else looks undisturbed. I unzip my jacket and let the cool air on my neck and arms, and I sling the jacket onto the chair.

The book about animals is on the table and before I can head to the room to retrieve a hanger for my jacket, a slip of paper jutting out of the side catches my attention.

When I leaf through the pages, I find Eric's note.

 _I noticed you got rid of your flower._

 _-ERIC_

I crumple it into nothing before pressing my palms into my eyes with enough pressure to make them begin to throb in the back of my skull and create spots across my vision. It's obvious he isn't over his little games and random notes. I go to close the book but not before examining the pages he had slipped the paper between.

The animal displayed is a brightly colored bird with large tail feathers, in an array of flashy designs. Another bird next to it, sports dull colors, that looks similar but without the large train of tail, it looks lackluster in comparison to the other. The other one takes all the attention.

Pavo Cristatus, they are called. [Peafowl]

I'm not sure if there is a real relevance to anything in particular but knowing him it probably means something, I'm almost tired of thinking, he's always trying to make me think, with all these Erudite mind tricks. I close the book and head to the bathroom, dragging my tongue across the back of my teeth.

I'd rather not spend time trying to analyze _every_ single thing Eric does or the hidden messages behind it all. He'll get tired of getting little to no results and I'm already thoroughly done with it. So much more important things to focus on.

I remove the lid of the toilet tank and I'm actually _not_ surprised to see that the items in the vase are replaced by another note and his room key. I sigh tiredly and take them both out, unfolding the note.

 _So predictable._

 _-ERIC_

* * *

Thanks as always for reading! I've been working on a separate story too but. . .I'll try to keep up with this one. Thank you for reviews, follow and favorites, they're awesome! as well as the views :D I'm so glad that most of them go all the way through to the most recent chapter lol.


	15. Time

WIP. Making minute edits but this is a rough typed up chapter to get things moving again.

Thanks for the patience, I got kind of sidetracked.

Thanks also for the reviews, favorites and follows. I appreciate it.

* * *

I kick my boots off and begin to pace my apartment, discarding my socks between strides, leaving them strewn across the floor.

My body temperature has elevated, and I quite literally feel as though I've developed a mild fever. Something not debilitating but, enough to effect me physically as the ground is ice cold against the bare soles of my feet.

The key twists between my fingers, as I run them over the jagged edge repeatedly and I stare blankly at nothing at all except for an occasional glance at the door.

After a few circles around my couch and between the coffee table I stop and walk back the the middle of the room and I press my palms into the dining table to stare down at the image once more.

A colorful bird with a train of elaborately designed tail feathers and a dull unappealing bird.

No matter how many times I look back at them I feel as though I'm missing something key, and then, I also have _a_ key _physically_ clutched in my hand.

But that seems a little too literal and maybe a bit too notional. Really though, none of this even matters.

I press my slightly cold knuckles into my eyes to offer slight relief to the melting sensation within it's sockets and the hammering in my skull.

My earlier alcohol consumption, notwithstanding the very little that I actually consumed, may also have a contributing factor to the unrelenting headache.

 _So predictable._

I think about what I would _normally_ do.

Which isn't this. Normally, I'd toss the key, discard the notes and leave well enough alone and yet, here I am still overthinking it all instead of just doing it.

Unless this is an unconscious attempt on my part at rebelling against him to prove him wrong.

I shake my head blankly and touch my collarbone tracing along the fabric of my shirt with the key, tapping my finger and my foot in rapid timed succession.

I've no inclination or desire to prove anything to him.

Being predictable is hardly an insult. Faction customs dictate even idle behavior and supersede individual preference. The use of stereotypes to determine inclination is methodical.

My eyes glance back over at the table. I've admittedly spent an unreasonable amount of time trying to deliberate the meaning behind one thing, and _could_ be overlooking another.

But what? Or more importantly why am I even trying to figure it out?

I throw myself onto the couch, shielding my eyes from the harsh ceiling light with my arm and I check the time on Eric's watch. I've spent well over 30 minutes doing nothing productive.

Not that I really had much to do, perhaps that's why I'm bothering with this at all.

11:59 A.M, or 11:57 A.M.

My final decision is to just set an alarm for 2 A.M, clean up after myself and go to bed. Simple. One hour is enough to get to where I need to be. I could probably run there in 45 minutes if not take the train.

I sigh deeply and place the key flat on my sternum, a cold piece of metal on my clammy overheated skin like a necklace pendant and I curl my toes against a couch pillow, shifting uncomfortably. I've never actually lain across it like this.

 _Use what you've lost but you may loose what you need._

I've _lost_ them again, and it's seemed they aren't necessarily _needed_ , merely optional. I hadn't expected them to make it back to me in the first place anyway.

This shouldn't really effect my ability to accomplish whatever the task implores. I've made do without them before and with less than desirable physical conditions.

I breathe in and when I breathe out, I focus on the the watch.

12: 03 A.M. which is 12:01 A.M.

The fact that I haven't changed the time to remedy the two minute flaw hadn't occurred to me before. It isn't a large difference and doesn't bother me much.

His watch is the same as mine, standard issue, digital. The buttons on the side read mode, reset, start/stop, and back light.

I press the mode button several times - like I do to set my own - until the display blinks and I then hit the reset button twice to adjust the minutes. Once sets the hour, and twice sets the individual minutes.

After the time goes forward by a minute, I set it back two, and finally press the mode button to input the new time.

Done. 12:02 A.M. Fixed.

Only, the watch begins to beep loudly as if an alarm has been triggered.

The beeping is shrill and ear-shattering, much too loud for my empty apartment and my muted hearing. A sudden violent urgency to silence the noise floods my consciousness and overwhelms me.

I shoot up to sitting position quickly, too quickly and I shake my head to dispel the immediate lightheaded dizzying feeling and press mode again but the beeping doesn't stop.

I press the reset button, nothing. I press each button once, twice, three times each and get no desirable response.

The beeping is unrelenting, obnoxious, grating. A roaring in my ears, making it hard to think rationally. I very aggravatingly press all the buttons at once.

But Eric's watch continues to beep incessantly, as if it's _challenging_ me, just like it's original owner.

I struggle to remove it from my wrist and the strap doesn't come undone. I begin to mindlessly claw at it and try to pull it over my hand violently in an attempt to rid myself of it to no avail and I cover my ears with my palms, shutting my eyes tightly.

The sound echoes and reverberates in the hollows of my skull, beating against my eardrums and behind my eyelids as if it's trying to get _out._

I sigh exasperatedly and lean forward, pushing my elbows into my legs to apply added pressure behind the hands clamped over my ears and I squeeze my eyes shut tighter.

My heart races much too fast in my chest against my ribs. It's an uncomfortable sensation only really experienced during and after my fear simulations.

I try with little success to control my breathing and calm myself down.

Of all the things that could bother me or effect me, Eric's beeping watch is what does it. He must have known I would change it at some point.

Physically and mentally debilitated because of _noise_. Pitiful. Nonsensical. Utterly irational. Definitely unacceptable.

I take a few deep breaths. In through my mouth, out through my nose.

Calmly I pry my hands away from my ears letting the noise flood my system once more, and very slowly I unclasp the watch, pulling the strap through the little metal bar while rising off the couch.

It comes away as I make my way over to my boots and I clutch it by one strap away from me as if for some unforeseeable reason it would re-attach itself.

A cold sweat breaks over my skin and I swallow thickly.

There is very little triumph in the destruction of something. I don't take pleasure in it, no matter how defective it is. Whatever he did to rig this watch against me, it was no fault of the watch itself.

Still, it is just a watch.

I wash my hands in the sink, splashing cold water on my scorching face, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand before leaning with all my weight over the counter.

For a moment I contemplate that unidentifiable smoky feeling in my gut. I bite my lip hard and swallow thickly once more before placing a hand over the key, still stuck to my sternum, held by the temperature and clammy suction of my skin.

My teeth continue closing down on the flesh of my bottom lip until I am sure it will break skin. It does. The taste of copper both thick and thin as it mixes with my saliva, spreads between my teeth and I press my tongue against the tiny nick.

I remove the pendant from my skin and toss it into the sink, watching it clink and clatter against the rectangular hollow basin, consigning it to the drains of Dauntless.

Housing assignment will no doubt refuse to reissue another.

Just when the key begins to slide into the dark hole, I slam my hand over it, catching it. I curl my fingers around it, careful not to let it slip into the drain.

 _Of course_ I would throw it away. That would have been one of the _first_ things I did.

"Predictable." I purse my lips, suddenly feeling extremely inferior. It was _I_ that unconsciously relied on _his_ predictability.

So much so that I overlooked the _key_ and instead spent so much time focusing on the book and the birds - A _distraction_ \- I never once examined it.

I take a deep steady breath that turns into a scoff on the exhale.

I'd automatically assumed the key was _his_ because of how often he presented it to me previously. I slowly uncurl my fingers and bring my palm upwards, closer to my face.

Sure enough there are specks of dirt caked into the engraved ridges of the metal, forced into it from being constantly buried within my planter.

I shake my head and scoff again.

 _My_ key.

I _would_ have thrown it away thinking it was _his._

* * *

With my ear pressed up against the door of my spare bedroom I slide the key into the lock. It would be remiss not to assume he's just here in my apartment.

Although I'm unsure if he'd be lying in wait or just sleeping. He never seemed to be a patient person.

Satisfied when I hear no noises, but also cautious to the sound of my own heartbeat loud in my ears. I turn the key. The noise of the lock disengaging makes the breath in my throat catch.

All sounds seem a little too loud now that the beeping is gone. Even the silence screams loudly. I don't understand why _I'm_ trying to be quiet though.

I turn the door handle slowly and push it inward. The light of my living room filters in and falls over the empty bed, across my mask, the syringe and vial placed in a neat row at the end of the mattress.

My hands curl into tight fists.

This was literally pointless and definitely bothersome and inconvenient. I can't fathom any gain on his part. Is this just for his amusement? Does he not take anything seriously?

I press my fingers into my temples and drill with circling motions to assuage the ache still bearing inside and take a measured step towards the bed.

I hear a scuffle, a shift and I know it isn't from me. I pause to listen.

A strong hand and fabric clamps over my mouth and nose from behind, jerking me back against something solid but soft, an arm wraps around my abdomen and I can only assume it's _Eric_.

I hold my breath instinctively as soon as I smell a slight sweet odor through the obstruction on my lower face and I thrash, throwing an elbow backwards hitting nothing but his padded jacket.

"Surprise." Eric says gleefully.

I struggle against the restraining arms, planting my feet to pull forward and resigning to delivering a kick, but without boots It just glances off his pants.

He laughs darkly and the arm around my waist tightens, lifting my feet off the ground. I claw my nails into his forearm around my stomach, refusing to breath and grip his other hand in an attempt to pry it off my face.

"Just relax Genie." Eric says with with a low and contemptuous tone directly into my ear. "Take a deep breath."

He nuzzles my jaw with his stubble. Bile rises in my throat but I cannot swallow without giving in to the building urge to breathe. My throat too tight.

My hand shoots over my shoulder and I dig my nails into the side of his neck below his ear. He hisses acrimoniously and his teeth clamp down onto my shoulder through my shirt just above my old wound.

The pain isn't immediate as the adrenaline coursing through me acts to create an asymptomatic state. But I know that I'll feel it within moments.

I flail my legs forward and catch the bed, kicking off of it, using it to propel us both backwards. He collides against the wall and lets out a sharp curse but his hold does not give, it becomes crushing.

His hand clamps harder over my nose and mouth, fingers curling into my cheeks.

A searing intense pain suddenly spreads from my stitches across my chest and down my arm. I know he's bitten me again.

I clamp my teeth throwing my head back to keep from breathing in at the pain.

My lungs strain for air, shriveling in my chest, a darkness seeps around the edges of my vision from lack of it alone.

"Goodnight, Genie." His voice sounds hollow, faraway, and when he places his cold lips to my cheek I gasp in, filling my mouth and lungs with a sweet chemical scent.

My grip on consciousness falters as my eyelids droop heavily and everything spins out of focus, morphing together to form one giant dark hole. I'm falling in.

I black out.

* * *

I open my eyes to darkness and a cold pillow pressed to my cheek. My eyes don't adjust and blinking only puts me in one state of solid blackness to the static blackness behind my eyelids.

I spread my arm in front of me and feel the bed sheets beneath my fingers. I'm lying on my side and I'm in my apartment. At least I'm certain.

Seconds pass before I can start making out shapes. The form of the lamp on the bedside table and the outline of the closet doors.

I'm aware that I am still fully dressed but I know not what time it is or how long I've been unconscious. I focus first on my condition. Taking note of the minor pains and aches.

There is a constant throb in my head, abdomen, shoulder and an intense burning located between my shoulder blades behind my neck that takes precedence over all the rest.

I slowly push up onto my elbow, pausing to breath and allow my consciousness the time to adjust, and I swing my legs over the side of the bed.

The motion sends small bursts of fire rippling down my spine as if a metal rod is being jammed down it. Pain is manageable. I breathe through it.

I shut my eyes and wait till it subsides and listen to the room but the only sounds are from my shallow breathing and the continued steady thump of my heart beating in my ears.

I'm alone.

My mouth feels thick and I swallow once, filling my mouth with saliva. I taste peppermint, ultimately the taste is too sweet and severely out of place.

I ignore the nausea that rears behind another swallow and pull my hair over my shoulder, stopping when it catches and sticks onto something. I tug it loose.

I press my fingers slowly from my hairline down the back of my neck till I reach a gauze, just at the collar of my shirt, held to my skin with papery medical tape.

Whatever is beneath the gauze, is the main cause of my discomfort. My main focus now is to find out what it is exactly. Although I have some idea.

When I stand, my legs buckle, giving out beneath me and I catch myself on the edge of the bedside table nearly knocking the lamp from its perch. I steady it before pushing myself up again.

My spine ripples with sharp stabs as I straighten up.

I use the wall as support and make my way out the still open door. My living area is dark as well, indicating that he turned it off before leaving but, I know it well enough to traverse without light.

At the bathroom I flick the light switch on and the bright bulbs attack my sensitive eyes. I blink away the sting and allow them to now adjust to it, squinting at the mirror. My vision is blurry.

The first thing I notice is a note taped to it, directly in the middle, blocking my reflection. I'm no longer surprised by the appearance of them or the fact that it's placed exactly where I would look.

But I need to hold it close to my face to distinguish the words. The fact that my sight is hindered is extremely inconvenient.

 _I didn't think you would let me stick it in you while you were conscious._

 _No worries though, it shouldn't hurt after a while._

 _Unless you try to take it out, then it'll hurt like you've never felt before._

 _Eric_

I pull my hair over my shoulder again and turn in the mirror. I am not oblivious to the sexual innuendo he's used but quite literally he's inserted some sort of object under my skin.

The gauze is thick and I gently pull the edge of the tape to remove it.

A lump and dried blood just barely visible at this angle shows and its difficult to see behind me so I feel with two fingers pressing lightly. There is no mistaking the two stitches, closing an incision about 3 centimeters long.

I'm assuming it's a tracker.

A white hot rage fills me and I rip the gauze off my skin and tear his note, discarding them in the waste bin before turning off the light and stalking into my living area, straight to the kitchen.

I press the overhead lamp and glance for my _knife_ with his watch and instead find another note under a glass of water. I clench my jaw and my nails bite into my palms.

Again I have to squint and bring the paper to my eyes.

 _Take these._

 _I'll see you in the morning._

 _Don't wait up._

 _Eric_

7 blue pills are scattered around and over the note. I sweep my arm over the counter and spill them all into the sink before gulping down the water to wash down the undoubtedly smoky putrid taste that rises.

I still taste peppermint.

I drag my tongue across the back of my teeth and fill the glass once more, gulping it all down. The action of tilting my head back sends a jolt down my spine like electricity.

Either he put it in wrong intentionally to cause discomfort or its not _just_ a tracker. It's not the first time I've had one and it's a little demeaning that they'd have _him_ administer it.

I sigh and shake my head slowly. They must think I'd disappear, although, I can't fathom why, I don't think I've given them that intention.

No sense in complaining now.

Removal of the object myself may prove debilitating. I'll need assistance but, I need to know what _time_ it is. I still have an objective.

His broken watch is _gone_ and my knife placed neatly where it used to be.

I swipe it up and move to put it back into my boot. Taking a seat to put them both on. I slide my first foot in only to find another note and something solid accompanying it inside.

It takes a startling amount of my usually limitless self control not to just hurl it across the room. I take several deep calming breaths and turn it upside down. The note and _my_ watch spill out.

I clasp my watch over my wrist and check the time immediately.

2:14 A.M.

I'm on a time crunch now. If I am to make it to where I need to be by 3 A.M I'm left with no time to find and confront Eric, Falen or even Max.

 _Don't forget your toys._

 _And try not to break mine._

 _Eric_.

I blink several times at his note and rub my eyes violently to focus on his p.s at the end where he seems to have written impossibly small.

 _P.S. Loss of vision is only temporary. Relax Genie. Breathe._

* * *

The kitchen sink screeches as water flows out of the faucet in roaring gushes washing the shards of glass and whitish oily liquid of the propofol vial and syringe down the gaping drain.

This is definitely not the proper way to dispose of chemicals or medical equipment but as I lack the time, it is my best option. It would be unwise to leave them, equally unwise to take them.

I glance at the time. 2:24 A.M.

The mask secure in my back pocket with my jacket and shirt pulled over. The heat radiates off of me, creating a scorching tingle between my skin and the fabric. My hairs stand on end.

I breathe heavily through the scarf and cut the sink off before brushing the stray bits of glass off the glove. My hand hovers over the last two items on my counter.

A flashlight and a pair of dark silver rimmed glasses.

The ones Eric wore on his choosing day, and the same ones I found stashed in his scarce belongings when he stayed in the dorms during initiation.

I find I'm more bothered by the fact that they fit perfectly, rather than the fact that I even put them on. I blink through the lenses. Prescription. Thick. Unlike many other Erudite that wear them for vanity.

It worsens my vision noticeably and only intensifies the headache but, I find myself wondering, despite my newly established abhorrence for Eric, if his vision is always as such without them.

His hand writing is scribbled and sloppy but legible. I've not seen his aim but he's intelligent enough to calculate trajectory. His fear of darkness could be his lack of daylight vision.

If I weren't so incensed because of him, I might be impressed at how he's even become Dauntless. I can't understand his strategy, antagonizing me and then divulging one of his weaknesses.

I remove the glasses and place them on the counter and raise my gloved fist. If he really didn't want me to break his toys, he should've thought twice about giving them to me.

* * *

My lungs and throat burn cold and sharp with every inhale of the wintry air as I sprint towards the tracks and the sounds of the train horn blaring.

Every footfall sends a jolt down my back and I push myself to run along the last car, the train picking up speed as it nears the curvature around the back of Dauntless.

I'm losing my only opportunity, just barely catching up to it.

I throw myself sideways and grasp the handle next to the doorway and brace my foot on the lip of the step up and nearly slip on the slush built from chugging through snow.

My teeth clench as my shoulder slams into the metal exterior and I grip with both hands as I sway and lose my footing, dangling for a moment. The gloves keep me from sliding down the handle but the used leather rubs into the skin of my fingers and palms like callous.

I haul myself inside, dropping unceremoniously onto the ground on my hands and knees, panting from the physical exertion. My body is cooperating but only with great effort.

When I recover I crawl over to the door and brace my back against the wall to look out at the city smearing past with the howl of the wind. I bring my legs close to my chest.

I recognize the tremble beneath my burning skin, despite the many layers. I've no doubt developed a fever. One with many contributing factors, It would be remiss not to suspect infection.

The train rises and I gaze out through the darkness and the fog of my breathing. The cold begins to seep through and I wrap my arms around my knees, huddling myself.

A sea of crumbling concrete and broken glass flash pass the door in a blur of nighttime reds of faded bricks and shades of darkest grays.

At night without the sunlight glinting off the crystal ice, they all look tall and ominous. Shadowed figures with empty hollow insides. The broken windows like black eyes and gaping mouths with jagged glass teeth.

Of course I have to take in the fact that my eyesight is still blurry, images appear slightly morphed.

There's always a feeling of lonesome abandonment with the way time and neglect have claimed the landscape. Some buildings half fallen, roads so broken they're considered unpaved.

At first glance you would think the city has just been put on hold in the middle of construction, and not that it's been left behind in the wake of some devastation.

The skeletal structures could speak of promise and ingenuity rather than wreck and ruin. Restoration is a slow process. Time rules all things. Creation, destruction, growth, degeneration.

I've always liked the city. Buildings duplicated row after row on a grid with sharpness and precision. Everything fitting together like blocks.

Tonight though I gaze at the faint glimmering in the sky. Instead of individual twinkling stars I see smudges. I suppose it's not so bad if it's only temporary.

These misty glowing lights, both dim and bright like ghostly illusions recede forever across the blanket of night over a sleeping city.

I stifle a yawn and rest my head back against the vibrating cab wall. A Dauntless without sight is unheard of. I close my eyes and relax, taking a deep breath.

* * *

I lean out of the cab as far as I can, gripping the interior door handle to squint and peer at the large apartment complex building just coming into view.

It's 3:07 A.M. I'm late.

The train begins slowing and I pull my hood tighter over my head, the scarf over my nose and mouth heat my already warm face with every breath.

I glance out at the other cabs ahead of mine as they all begin to turn, and I roll my shoulders, and stretch my legs. As of now the pain running down my back is hardly noticeable. I prepare myself for the jump and watch the ground passing, gauging my landing in the snow.

The train dips and I bend my knees but before I can jump a figure leaps out several cabs ahead of mine. I quickly duck inside and press my back against the door.

I watch the hooded figure in Dauntless clothing sprint towards the apartments as the train passes it by and I wait till I've gone a full block away before turning and launching myself off.

My feet slam into solid ground and I roll forward bringing my head down and arms up, ignoring the ache and the wetness that seeps into my clothing from the snow on the ground.

I push off with the momentum of my roll and break into a run.

* * *

At the corner of an adjoining building I press my back against the brick and look out across the stretch of the street and behind a chain link fence atop a waist high wall.

I watch the Dauntless as they work to bash the locked handle off the door that leads into the apartment building with a brick, with blatant disregard at the noise they're making.

They obviously don't know how to pick the lock. I immediately rule out several individuals. Many actually. That does little to narrow the possibilities of his or her identity.

I'm sure he or she is Dauntless though. Despite it being nighttime and my shitty vision I can tell by the way they landed off the train with ease and their attire is noticeably all black.

What I can't tell is the gender. The large winter jacket and standard issue pants disguise any distinguishable curves. He or she appears boyish in _movement_ however, brutish and without caution

Either that person is my target or I'm to meet them. But I'm unsure where my mask factors in. If I use it will they assume I am hostile? or an ally? I deliberate for a moment.

 _Use what you've lost but you may lose what you need._

Am I to assume this person has something I need? If I use the mask it _may_ become unobtainable?

The use of the word _may_ leads me to believe using the mask or not using it is strictly a choice in preference and whatever it is that I 'need' can _still_ be obtained regardless.

Still. What exactly do I _need_? What have I ever _needed_?

When the handle breaks off, the individual begins slamming his or her boot into the door repeatedly until it opens, banging loudly against the wall inside. They enter and the door begins to close slowly, heavily.

I push myself off the wall and sprint across the street and as quietly as I can, I kick off the lip of the waist high wall and propel myself up the fence, throwing myself over. Landing in a crouch with my hands on the ground.

I just barely reach the door before it closes and I press my palms against it, breathing in and out slowly. I push it inward inch by inch until I can slide into the dimness beyond.

Inside is a staircase, only visible by the faint red-orange glow of a faded broken emergency exit sign above the door.

I step towards the middle looking up and immediately duck back towards the door when I see the beams of a flashlight several stories up, in case they heard me and decided to look over the railing.

Obviously they came prepared as well.

Instead of using my own flashlight I press myself against the wall and begin climbing the flights of stairs, taking them two at a time noiselessly. I listen to the echoes of their boots far above me.

The building is 12 stories and I vaguely take note of their not needing to take a break. I stop several times in case I've caught too far up, but when I steal a glance I can still see the beam of their light streaking across the railings as they climb.

When I hear the sound of a door handle rattling I stop and glance around. Resolving to standing in the alcove to a door leading to what reads is the 10th floor.

The sounds of metal on metal are unmistakable, a loud clattering echo down the the stairwells as I take it, they begin beating the lock with the flashlight.

I reach into my back pocket and pull out my mask. Holding it between my gloved palms. The paleness has an eerie glow even in the shadows.

When I put it on, I don't become another person. To me it's just a mask but then when others look upon it they may think or feel different things. It's not always just a mask.

The first time I put it on, I saw hate and from then on it felt fitting to be hated. Maybe I wear it because I didn't want to be forgiven again, or maybe I just did because the others before me did as well.

I shake the retrospective thoughts from my head. The headache and fever must be taking a toll on rational thinking. A mask is just a mask to hide my identity, nothing more and right now i don't know their identity and I'm more than inclined to hide mine.

The banging stops and I hear the sounds of them kicking at the door. I breathe in and out slowly and pull the scarf down to secure the mask over my face, the cool material is smooth over my heated skin and I draw my knife.

I swallow thickly, dragging my tongue across the back of my teeth. There Is no smoky feeling, no hesitation or reluctance right _now_ but the mask makes me feel oddly trapped. Confined.

When the door slams open above me, I move and climb the last flights of stairs. Up to the 12th floor. The door clicks shut faster than I can reach it.

My hand hesitates against it and my other hand curls tightly around the handle of my knife. I lift my hand from the door and let it hover over the mask but I don't remove it. Rather than think I should endeavor to do what I must. Just do what I always do.

I push the door open and exit out onto the roof the initial gush of air burns my eyes and I scan my surroundings immediately. The foot prints in the undisturbed snow lead around the corner of the roof exit.

The crunch of snow is loud under my boots and I move with meticulous slowness in an attempt to minimize the noise and when I round the corner I spot the individual at the end of the roof in front of the short brick lining.

Standing with their back turned away from me, facing Erudite.

The large glass and metal spire lit up blurrily in the distance surrounded by the rest of the sleeping dark city. I blink several times, still impaired.

Moonlight casts soft light down over everything giving the whiteness an eerie glimmer and glow. I take another step keeping my eyes locked on the form ahead.

He or she will no doubt hear me coming now.

"Gene?"


	16. Blocks

"You- You aren't Gene." Her green eyes widen, swirling with fear, confusion and then narrow with rage. Her light tinted lips curl back into a vicious snarl over pearly white teeth.

But she takes a step _back_ , towards the wall until her thighs touch it and her gloved hand shoots to the top of the brick as if to steady herself or keep from falling over the side of the building.

Out of instinct I take a step forward, with my free hand extended outwards, open and low. I move the knife hand closer and positioned the same with only my thumb and index wrapped around the handle to _suggest_ I won't use it.

Kat. Female. Dauntless-Born. 15. 124 lbs. 5'4 height. Narrow build. Green eyes, orange hair.

"Don't come any closer." She hisses, her eyes flick behind me as if judging her chances at escaping. "What have you done with Gene? Did you hurt her?"

Or perhaps she was expecting _me_ to walk out at any moment.

To her I must not be Gene. But then again I am. It's apparent she doesn't recognize _me_ under this faceless mask and heavy form concealing clothing. They've even instructed her on her attire.

I'm about to answer her but my tongue feels heavy and instead I shake my head. _No_. Her face looks instantly relieved but cautious, and her eyes become guarded, sharp and severe.

Who does she think _I_ am? Obviously she knows the mask means someone hostile. Something dangerous. She's never seen it before, _shouldn't_ have.

The expression she conveys is extreme loathing, brows furrowed, and a slight twitch in her nose from the way her teeth are bared. But she's trembling and the white smoke of her breath comes often.

"Are you here to kill _me_?" She asks spitefully, her words come forcefully with spittle. "You're the one killing Divergent, aren't you?" Her hands ball into fists.

My ears twitch, an involuntary reaction to the word. _Divergent_.

"Well, here I am, asshole." She opens her hands and gestures, palm up, as if to say she's the only one here. The only Divergent here? "Just fucking try it. I'm not afraid of death and I'm sure as shit not afraid of _you_."

I flex the fingers that I unknowingly re-curled around the knife handle, deliberating. A cold sweat breaks out over my skin and in a matter of seconds my clothing begins to stick to me.

A second passes, and another.

If I'd not used the mask I may not have gotten such a blatant confession. That doesn't explain how she can easily and automatically associate the mask with the _disappearance_ of Divergent though.

She was informed, had to be.

Which furthers the likelihood of her imminent fate. They've set her up to die. Set her up for _me. A target._ Why else would they have provided my mask? It should have been obvious.

But then, I think about how she must have been expecting _me_. _Waiting for me._

They told her to run, gave her the thought that she could. Probably even told her that _I_ would meet her here. Did they think I would run as well? Is that why they put a tracker in me at the last minute?

I take a measured step forward and she clambers up onto the wall behind her, her boot slips when she misjudges the height due to the powdered snow on the lip, and her stomach slams into it, her feet lift off the ground as she sways over.

Panic blooms forcefully through my chest, and it overwhelms me faster and more forcefully than I've ever experienced before. But I don't move. My feet and boots melded to the very spot I stand.

If she falls I won't have to do anything, but, if she _falls_. . .She regains her balance and clutches the brick tightly. I breathe and realize that my hand is up as if to push her, or. . .To grab her _away_ from the ledge. My heart is beating loudly in my ears.

I move to hold both hands up, one hand open with the palm out and the other curled around the knife. In my mind I will myself to say _'Don't_.' I hear myself say it.

But my mouth does not move, and my voice does not come out.

Kat watches me with both hands gripping the wall, shifting her boots as if balancing and readying herself to stand. Her breathing is even more rapid and her eyes blazing beneath her disheveled orange bangs.

My breathing is noticeably heavy, the hot air fills my mask, only escaping out the sides. My eyes burning hotter despite the fact that they are the only things fully exposed to the frigid elements. Fever aside, I feel the shiver beneath my skin has little to do with my temperature or otherwise.

I slowly - cautious to her position on the wall - begin to move my hand towards the mask, keeping the knife raised with only my pointer and thumb secure around it, the rest of my fingers open again.

" _Don't_." Kat hisses acrimoniously. "I don't want to see _your_ fucking face." My hand freezes over the mask. "I don't care who _you_ are, you're a murderer underneath and I won't give you the satisfaction, I won't give you _anything_."

She stands quickly, wobbling and I step forward with my hand out again. The words stick in my throat, prickling up like knives and acrid bile. My tongue bristles.

I could _let_ her fall, I could _make_ her jump. If _I_ don't kill her, someone _else_ will. Will it be Max? Will it be Falen? Will it be Jeanine? Will it be Garrett? Will it be _Eric? Who will it be_? I suddenly realize that I'm asking myself.

As if I've already decided that it won't be _me_ that does it.

She regains her balance once more by gripping the wall again and I lunge forward, sprinting the distance between us. "Fuck y-" She releases the wall as soon as I move, but her eyes widen as she begins to fall over the side.

The _wrong_ side.

I flick the knife blade inward against my sleeve and grip her jacket above the elbow with my free hand. My boots slide against the slush on the ground till they hit the wall. I use it as leverage to wretch her back onto the roof, gritting my teeth at the pain that dredges down my spine and through my shoulder, down my arm.

"Don't fucking touch me!" She screams as she falls to the ground flailing, slapping my hand away, she catches me with a boot to the abdomen, knocking the air from my lungs and I slam into the wall behind me, sending a burst of sparks across my vision at the impact.

I pant and lean against the wall to support my weight and watch her kick herself away from me on the roof. She looks over her shoulder towards the exit and then back at me as if refusing to turn away.

 _Run._ I think tiredly, as she scrambles up, the white slush spraying around her boots and her hands as she slips back down, her eyes snap back to mine. _Run._ I push myself up and take a step away from the wall, towards her, and I flick the knife back around, grasping it tightly within her view.

She _will_ run, if I chase her away, she won't come back. I'll give _her_ no choice. I'll let _her_ run away. I'll let _her_ escape.

Her vibrant green eyes widen at me and she falls back down onto her backside, kicking herself away once more, the hood of her jacket falls back as she drops onto her elbows and then back to her hands.

G _et up and run._ She doesn't. Instead Kat shuts her eyes and covers her ears, bringing her knees close to herself. Curling herself into a ball. Like. . .Like a _child_.

The sounds of air being sucked in sharply, transformed into rasping, shattering sobs fills my muted ears through my thick furred jacket hood. She is _crying_. Kat the Dauntless, the _Divergent_ , is crying.

 _No_. She's not just crying.

I almost step closer and kneel to hear what she's saying, but I stop myself. She's saying the same thing over and over again. Her voice comes out muffled and incoherent through the wet sounds of her tears.

I step back as she raises her head, her eyes sunken and weary, her cheeks, soaked with fresh tears that don't stop coming. Her entire face scrunched and drawn down in a painful grimace as the sobs rake her small form like it's tearing her apart.

The noise of her crying is so loud, so ear shattering, so _foreign_. I shut my eyes and bring my hands up as if I could cover my ears but she says something, barely audible. It's a whisper.

So quiet that I lose it. I open my eyes and watch her lips as if I could read them. Orange tinted lips. Trembling, drawn open as she continues to gasp in air.

She says it again, a little louder this time—but it still doesn't register. It's like a message coming from somewhere else, and I can't make it out. But I need to.

"I hate you!" She screams loudly, her voice screeching through my ears. All the blood driven up into her face and the tendons of her neck standing out hard and long. "I hate you, it's your fault! Everything is your fault."

I blink, and take a step back.

"Because of you- _All_ because of _you_." She sobs, shaking her head violently. "Because of you I hate him. You _made_ me hate him." She rocks forward, slamming her fists into the ground.

I swallow thickly and unknowingly take another step away. What is this? I don't understand. I made her hate _him_?

"He didn't _leave_ me. He wouldn't have _left_ me. You _took_ him." She accuses. "Because of you I thought I wasn't enough, and I thought he left me. . .I thought he never. . ."

 _Graham_.

"But it was never him, and it was never me. It was you!" She screeches, she pulls herself forward onto her hands and knees, attempting to pushing herself up on shaking limbs. "If it weren't for you. . .He would've stayed with me, and. . ."

Her strength gives out once more as she collapses in on herself, clutching at her chest. The way her gloved hand curls into a claw is as if she could rip into her chest cavity and tear out vital organs.

But I don't understand why I can feel it in mine, digging into my lungs making it difficult to breathe.

"He'd be here right now. . .Singing me those stupid songs. . .Holding my hand. . .Talking about. . .Cows. . .He would _be_ here." She cries hard. Harder than I've ever heard anyone cry before. "You- You _took_ him away from m- me, but you didn't just do that. . .You made me hate him and - and - I -"

I watch her mouth and her face as it becomes peaceful, as if everything is spread out before her eyes finally compressed into a single moment of sharpness and clarity of mind.

That's when she speaks again, without looking at me, with no recognition of me. She's not speaking to me anymore.

"I _loved_ him. I _love_ him."

She drops onto her hands and knees as if crushed.

My fingers uncurl and it falls, landing in the snow with a soft sound and I take a deep breath in, allowing myself a blink. There's the weight of the world, the weight of words and the weight of a knife. They could all weigh the same, but I've never quite felt a weight that couldn't be lifted.

It happens slow—and I expect a crash that never comes. I made this decision once before, maybe I was supposed to have learned it then. Remember.

I look in her eyes, and see myself reflected there, a creature of violence, a brutal thing, a sad thing. Then I look at her hands, steady, grasped around the knife.

And I watch, as even now. That edge of a moment. That fragment of a second, I know—that shadow between thought and action.

The imprint of a memory, branded into her brain, the mind already apologizing for the actions of the body. The flicker of that apology all over her face.

She uses her weight and pushes downward on the handle of the knife as hard as she can, the ribs between which the blade is jammed acting as a fulcrum and I feel as it twists downward.

The warmth in my abdomen spreads.

I think of a thousand things. Coffee, cake, her frigid toes, the feel of her hand in mine, the sound of her breathing, the smile on her lips when she has her face pressed against one of my pillows and the slow way her eyes would close as she fell asleep. .

I feel something large inside myself, expanding, filing up in my chest like something that had been planted a long time ago finally blooming.

 _"I'm sorry."_

Her green eyes go wide. The sound of her gasp sung together like that of a quiet breathy sigh. She stumbles back, her hands releasing the handle of the knife and she glances down at her work, her hands shaking violently.

I blink once, a slow blink. The measure of time capricious. Arbitrary to the flow between the state of before and after. A second. An infinity. Can fit within.

It's then that the remains of memory come as patches of color, or deceptive fragments of images that are shuffled so by time I can't seem to reassemble them into any coherent picture

 _"I'm sorry Katherine_."

I feel the cold wetness on my knees and a cough building in my throat. The world tilts sideways, _she_ tilts sideways. I'm weightless for the briefest of instants and then the cold spreads along the side of my body.

My mouth is full, as if I'm a cup being knocked on it's side. I cough and vomit forth a spray of blood that spills from the bottom of the mask, down my jaw, my neck, into the scarf.

I sputter, my airways blocked, a futile breath and my lungs fill.

"Gene." Crying. "Oh god, Gene." Her voice is brittle.

I feel a wetness on my cheeks and a blur as that same wetness pecks my eyes. I blink once and she's over me, I can see orange. Like a blurry sunrise. Or a sunset.

That burning light at the beginning and end of the day. A fire. A flame.

Something feels right, peaceful, _warm_. It's the kind of warmth you feel all the way through you. I feel it in my toes, and behind my eyes, and in my knees, and in deeper places still.

I feel an arm draped under my shoulders and a slow rocking back and forth. It's like a dream.

Like a dream where you find yourself underwater, and you're drifting, swaying in that warm infinity. You don't need to breathe, and you can stay under the surface _forever._

Her hand is so cold on my cheek. I think. I think her forehead is on mine.

I'd be able to see her—If I could keep my sleepy eyes open.

* * *

. . .

* * *

I tap the desk idly, drumming my fingers along the wood and I glance at the analog clock on the wall above the multicolored alphabets strung along the rim of the blackboard.

 _Welcome students_. It reads in chalk. The clock reads 1:26 P.M.

I cross my arms and lay my head over them like a pillow as the girl with green eyes and blonde braids continues to build a colorful block wall around the edges of my desk.

She stacks another block, higher, obscuring her face from view. When she's done, which will be in 3 more blocks, she'll knock it all down and start again. There are 44 blocks total. She takes her time fitting them together.

They all do the same thing. I know this ones name is Katherine though, she's the only one that builds on _my_ side. Literally, reaches over _her_ desk to place them on _mine_. I would think we were too old for these kinds of activities.

But I guess our Erudite teacher doesn't think so.

I turn my cheek and watch the clock instead, so I won't need to watch them tumble for the 3rd time. I can hear them though, clattering all around me against the hollow wood desk.

Another hour and 34 minutes.

. . .

The Abnegation always sit in the front of the bus, Dauntless wherever they want but Candor and Amity always sit on opposite sides. Erudite always sit in the back away from Abnegation.

I stare out the window while listening to the cacophony of inter-faction children around me. I always felt the best part of school was the commute, but I find myself anticipating the day we no longer ride the school bus.

The other Dauntless born leap from seat to seat across the aisles and I feel the weight being applied and leaving the leather next to me. I listen to the loud protesting metal of the bolts in the floor and thuds of their boots.

All mixed in to Erudite babble, Amity singing and Candor arguments. I sigh.

"Hey Gene, doesn't that look like a giant metal butt with turds on it?" I recognize her voice as a hand shoots in front of me to press a finger against the window at the metal bean shaped sculpture outside of school.

There are older Dauntless climbing it and settling on top. Turds?

I raise my brow at her, a 'giant metal butt'? Did she call me _Gene_? I'm not sure when we were even formally introduced or when my name was shortened. " My name is _Genesis_."

"I dont care." She just smiles till her eyes squint, I notice she's missing a tooth.

. . .

The feel of soft skin sliding between my fingers and the clammy pressure as it closes around my hand sends an electric ripple up my arm and my hair stands on end.

"What are you doing?" My voice is condescending and sharp above the roar of the wind through the open cab door and I snap my eyes up to hers.

I search them for any signs of pain, a grimace or flinch at the contact, even though she was the one that initiated it. I keep my fingers open but hers curl around and press between my knuckles.

"Isn't it obvious?" Katherine laughs. "We'll jump together!"

. . .

"Did you fall or did the floor need a hug?" Kat asks snarkily.

I sweep my leg behind both of hers and she falls backwards onto her backside with a shocked expression as she probably didn't expect me to be on my feet in an instant.

"I'm not sure, why don't you ask?" I reply evenly before licking the inside of my cheek where she landed a rather powerful punch. They're getting better.

She laughs out and falls onto her back and actually asks the ground if it would indeed like a hug. I shake my head and sigh exasperatedly, turning to stalk off the mat.

"The ground said YES!" And before I can turn she tackles me from behind and I 'hug' the mat once more with my face.

. . .

"What do you think?" Kat asks, she's late for breakfast. Jackie gushes over whatever it is and says it makes her look older, more wild. "Gene? What do you think?"

"Mmhmm." I answer with a dismissive wave without looking up from the tablet as I go through the read-only logs for munitions and equipment signed out for patrol and wall duties.

I can't find anything out of the ordinary or a correlation between the missing equipment and the names listed as having been on duty at the time. But if _I_ can't, I certainly doubt Gordon and Emily can. The idiots.

An arm wraps around my neck and pulls me backwards, breaking my focus with the brief sensation of falling. "It's my choosing day tomorrow bitches!" Amar yells into my ear.

I scowl and stand, placing the tablet under my arm and I ignore when he asks them _'what's 'up her butt?'_ What is metaphorically up my butt is _Dauntless._ Responsibility, obligation, duty.

A flash is caught in my peripherals and the tablet is yanked from beneath my arm. I turn sharply to see Kat smashing the device on the concrete ground in the middle of the cafeteria.

Her hair is bright _orange_ and I blink at it, finding that I am far more bothered by her hair rather than her blatant disregard for government property. Orange?

"Your hair." I say, unable to stop the bubling laugh that escapes my mouth. I cover my mouth.

She purses her lips at me and furrows her still blonde eye brows before crossing her arms over her chest, but, at my expression she begins to laugh as well.

I don't believe I've ever laughed harder, or. . .At all really. It kind of hurts. I clutch my stomach tightly and press my palm into the table.

. . .

Falen glowers and slams his fist down onto the wide desk, before crumpling the report from Wilson. "Tell me exactly what was going through your fucking head when you tho-"

"I wanted to see how Gene's knife throwing was going." Gordon answers with a complacent shrug, interrupting Falen. "Wilson _let_ me join them and I guess. . . I didn't _hear_ when he said to stop throwing."

"Oh and I'm going to assume Genesis just happened to be standing right in front of a target." Max says with heavy sarcasm and a barking laugh.

I try not to shift uncomfortably in my seat when Reid's watery blue gaze rakes over me, she hasn't said a word, but, that's normal so I'm uncertain why I'm so uncomfortable.

" _She_ wasn't in front of the target." Gordon answers with a gleeful laugh. "But damn Gene you're a lot faster now, I don't know why I never noticed before." He gives me a wink and a crooked grin.

Falen raises his brow at me but recognition flashes over his face and he slams a fist into the desk again. "Do you not fucking understand _anything_ Gordon?" He roars. "You give Dauntless a bad fucking name, that's why _you_ aren't ever going to be a fucking leader!"

"Fine by me." Gordon says with another shrug, he picks at his teeth with his pinky nail. "Neither will Emily, right?" He scoffs.

. . .

It only lasted a second and it was more of a peck so I don't believe it counts, but Kat's face becomes flushed and she wipes her lips.

It could also be the alcohol she consumed _before_ the dare however, as my temperature was elevated also. I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand and listen to the laughter of the others.

Gabriel slings his arm over my shoulders and they hand me the bottle next. I take a gulp immediately even though you're supposed to drink before you do the dare and I've yet to even _hear_ it.

The rim of the glass is cold and the alcohol burns my tongue and throat before settling hotly in my empty gut. It might have been wise to consume some food before alcohol, but I'd missed dinner.

"Alright Gene, I dare you to. . ." Kat searches the circle and I take another sip and wonder when they'll mature enough to exclude kissing.

I sigh and drink deeply before turning my cheek.

Gabriels mouth tastes like alcohol and he's very sloppy, but I suppose as far as first kisses go it's to be expected. "Hey hey, what about me?" Joseph complains. "Someone better dare her to kiss me too. . ."

. . .

The summer air is thick and heavy, scorching the bean shaped metal beneath me and I run my fingers over the engravings. The ones left by other Dauntless that climb up here and deface public property.

I take a moment to appreciate the fact that this statue is here for all to look at, especially the Erudite but, only Dauntless see it from this view.

Max's name is carved into the metal and I even find Falen but I can't picture them up here, I can't picture them in the wake of their teens, big enough to climb but still small enough to even be interested in climbing.

I find many names. Gordon, Emily, Amar and even Lynn and Uriah who drew 'greater than' arrows pointing at Ezekiel's and it makes me smile. I won't carve my name though, at least, not _yet._

"You guys suck." Kat exclaims with her hand cupped to amplify her voice. Amar mocks her and taunts her till she swears and complains, using more profanity than I care to know.

I sigh and lean back with my elbow behind me and my boots crossed, contemplating the heat as the precipitation from my beverage runs down the side of my face.

From the loud tinks, I take it she's begun throwing the bottle cap at us. It's not as if I didn't offer to help her up. Her determination is admirable though.

We could probably at least give her the unopened soda. It is hers. Motivation Amar said, or leverage, possibly. He wants to be an instructor.

I'm sure she'll get up here eventually. Up on the 'giant metal butt.'

. . .

"Hey, Hey Gene." I feel Kat kick me under the covers. "Gene I know you're awake bitch." Another stronger kick in the lower back. I contemplate feigning a snore, or feigning sleep so that I may actually get some.

Instead I turn over and fluff my pillow before dropping my head on top. "What." I say flatly. Even in the dark I can see the mischievous glint in her eyes. I receive no answer just a grin.

The silence that follows is filled with Jackie's soft snores and I sigh before sliding my hand under my pillow. "What is it _Katherine_." I say exasperatedly.

She laughs out loud till Jackie stirs and grunts, she covers her mouth and the silence becomes filled with her muffled giggles and Jackie's disgruntled complaints.

"Goodnight _Genesis_." Kat whispers before turning over. I turn onto my back and pull the covers up to my chin before twisting my fingers together over my abdomen.

"Goodnight _Katherine_." I say loudly and she laughs again.

"Ugh you guys shut the fuck up." Jackie complains with a thick and sleepy voice. Kat starts laughing louder with the occasional snorts, and I listen till she settles with a sigh.

With a curl in the corners of my lips, I close my sleepy eyes.

* * *

. . .

* * *

To be continued. . .

Thanks for reading and stay tuned for the next chapter!


	17. Orange

The click of his heels against the ground, with the soft monotonous beeping of machines echo in the confines of my skull. When I blink it's closer. I blink again and he's beside me.

He places the syringe on the cot to remove his glasses, using his coat to clean the lenses. "This will help you. . .Sleep." He says, taking up the syringe to flick the glass. He removes the drip chamber from a bag of clear liquids hung on a pole near the bed and attaches the syringe to it.

I stare at him, at his pasty skin, disheveled black wiry hair and sleep-less eyes behind spotless glass, waiting for the darkness that creeps around my vision to envelope it completely as a pink liquid flows down the tube of my IV and into my arm.

A sigh breathes through my lips, silent and unheard.

This isn't sleep.

He leans down till his mouth is close to my ear. "Don't speak to _anyone_." Garrett whispers as the gravity of unconsciousness weighs my eyelids.

* * *

Eric presses the incline button on the side of my bed to raise me slowly, bringing me up to a sitting position. But then, he presses the recline button to lay me back down equally slow. More than once.

Through the few times he's done this, I've learned where most of the restraints are, those above the sheets draped over my lower half include my shoulders and neck. I know my wrists are bound as well as I've tugged the sheet down with my fingers.

"Comfortable?" Eric asks, he pulls a chair up. I hear it scrape along the ground until it's beside the bed where he smooths the sheet down before placing an elbow to rest his cheek on a fist. "Not your first time in Erudite's hospital wing, huh?"

I stare at the long curtained window, the only one in the room. Drawn closed. The outside world shut away by clean white and pale blue checkered fabric, drifting occasionally from the air of a vent beneath it.

Sometimes I catch a flicker of the light that filters through, creating a streak across the foot of the bed. Fleeting and bright, indicating daytime. The light does little for the temperature of the room however, it remains a constant clinical cold. I knew I was in Erudite.

"I didn't bring you any flowers." He says with a sigh before leaning in. "But then, you really shouldn't have let someone fucking stab you." He speaks the rest through gritted teeth against my ear, the touch of his lips and breath against my skin, feathery and light.

I turn my head to face him and see that his blue-gray eyes are half lidded, expressing _boredom,_ as he stares down at me. In them, the blue weaves through hues of gray with the barest hint of green and, I wonder at them becoming faded. Dull. _Colorless_.

" _But_ on the bright side, I've discovered that they're _all_ more attached to you than they'd care to admit." Eric says with a low tone while brushing his finger along my jaw, stopping below my chin. "You're like a pet, only, less maintenance." His thumb skims my bottom lip.

I turn my head and gaze to the side when he leans in.

"Of course pets are a little more _disposable. . ._ And _replaceable_. " He continues to himself with a laugh, a grisly spiteful sound. "I mean, you _are_ obedient, well trained, quiet and. . ." I hear the protest of the chair under his weight and then his boots being placed next to me on the bed. _"Loyal_."

The scent of leather polish wafts off them. I breathe slowly, and as little as possible to calm myself. Focusing on getting a wrist free as I stare at the curtains of the window shifting in another artificial breeze.

"Speaking of which." The chair scrapes against the ground once more, his boots gone and his hand is on my face in an instant, pinching my cheeks into my teeth, forcing my head to the side. "Has _this_ opened your fucking eyes?"

I glare at him and twist my wrists in the restraints. The leather burns and cuts into my skin but his bright blue eyes sear into mine with far more intensity.

 _"Everything_ you've _ever_ done was strictly by design, but you've got it all wrong Gene, I can tell by that look on your face." Eric says. "It wasn't by _my_ design or even by Erudite's. You should _know_ that."

I pull at the restraints and claw into the mattress, my teeth bared behind his hand. He knows I won't be bound forever. That thought calms me marginally.

Eric smirks and glances idly at my struggle. "You _can_ hate and blame _me_ for whatever you want and all you fucking want but, it's _not my_ fault, it's definitely not my fault _your_ pet turned out to be Divergent. I didn't _make_ her one."

"I don't hate you." I speak, my voice comes through gritted teeth and pinched cheeks, sounding impudent and hardly insulting. "That would involve feeling something for you at all, and I don't blame you either, it's not as if I couldn't have done something about _you_ lon-"

"Fair enough, we both know that you're incapable of feeling _anything_ for _anyone._ A little modesty might do you some good though." Eric sneers, I try to turn my head out of his grasp but he squeezes tighter, the pressure on my jaw increases. "Now, do what you do best and shut the fuck up, this is about _Dauntless_."

"You-" He squeezes till I can't utter another word.

"Don't talk _now_ Gene, I might be prevailed upon to convince them that removal of your tongue is vital. They _would_ muzzle you, to keep from having to put you down." Eric tilts my head up. "It's about time you learned who it is you're so loyal to, the ones you trust. Youll realize who has Dauntless' best interests in mind, and who _doesn't_."

His grip loosens as though giving me an opportunity to speak or certain that I won't. "I'm not-" He squeezes hard and I close my eyes against the pressure.

"Frankly, I've grown tired of leaving you subtle hints, _warnings_ \- trying to get you to see what you're so - To be fair, I guess you were just _distracted."_ He tilts his head thoughtfully. "I'm sure you're a little more. . _.Focused_ now. Think about it while you're stuck here. You'll see, and when you do you'll come to me."

"How can you be so sure?" I ask.

"I know you'll do right by our _faction_. You always do." He answers with a wry smirk, his comment held a mocking undertone as if spoken by Jeanine. "You've always been loyal to Dauntless. For the most part, your duties and obligations are done without question or. . . _Real_ failure. The way I see it, you won't be able to resist eliminating _any_ and _all_ threat to Dauntless, I'm just giving you a _scent_."

At that moment a cold sensation spreads down my arm and I watch the clear liquid disappear from the IV into my pallid skin. It would have been welcome minutes ago.

I'm not prepared for it this time, but it's already inside me. Cold and invasive, weighing my body down, dragging me under.

"This conversation is far from over." Eric sighs with palpable aggravation and pauses a moment to search my expression. "Oh, don't look so. . . _Shitty_ , Genie. I'll be right here when you wake up."

I feel the lull force my eyes closed as his hand releases me to brush against my cheek. The darkness takes me, just after I feel a coldness against my lips.

* * *

My hand moves to the restraint around my neck and I pull but it doesn't break so I feel around and undo it properly. I remove the binds over my shoulders and abdomen in a rush to sit up before yanking the IV's from my arms and the finger clamp monitoring my pulse.

As soon as the dull flat-line sounds begin, I wrap the cord around my knuckles and tug, turning to use my shoulder as leverage, wrapping the cord around my hands until the machine falls over. The screen of the monitor shatters on impact before rolling over the ground, stopping at the foot of the door.

No doubt the noise will alert and draw unwanted attention.

I throw the sheets off my lower half to work at the belt around my thighs but as I start on the ones around my ankles the door opens and collides with the monitor, sending it across the floor and against the bed.

"Genesis! Those are for _your_ safety!" It's Garret's voice. I'm already loose.

* * *

Max's laughter is loud in my ears and I watch as Falen claws at the IV tube wrapped around his neck, rasping for air. His face red, eyes hollow and bloodshot.

To the left of him Garret approaches me, one hand low and in the other he has clutched a syringe. It would be impudent and redundant to continue. Falen _let_ me attack him.

"What are you doing?" Max asks, a wide grin across his face, he isn't talking to me. "Let her go, she stopped of her own accord. Do you really think you're holding her back?"

"Release. . .her." Falen adds with a cough, he waves a hand before pulling the IV needle from his shoulder and tosses it to the ground. "There's. . .no need. . .for that Garrett."

Garrett glances at Max and Falen before his eyes fall back to me.

"With all due respect old man, I enjoy watching an indecently dressed girl strangle you but this one is-" I stomp on Eric's boot but without my own, his foot is well protected. It is enough to get him to hold his tongue but he does not release me.

His grip on my arm, twisted behind my back has just enough pressure to not dislocate my shoulder but have the threat of it implied if I struggle. His other arm is wrapped around my waist holding me firmly against him.

My hand holds tight to his jacket sleeve, to keep him from applying more pressure over my wound. I can already feel the warmth spreading and the adrenaline fading, leaving me light headed and dizzy from the exertion.

"Garret." Max calls. "Go inform Jeanine that we will be taking Genesis back to-"

"Is that really wise?" Garret asks incredulously, his interruption earns a scowl from Max. "Her wound has been re-opened obviously and Dauntless hardly has the means to proper medical care, with the threat of an infec-"

"We have many capable medical staff at our disposal, we _do_ have an infirmary." Eric argues, he releases me with a slight shove. "You underestimate Dauntless?"

I sigh and tie the strings of the gown tighter behind me, a dark red stain blossoms over the front of the light blue fabric through the thick gauze and bandage wrap beneath it but, the pain is dull and deep, possibly due to the effects of pain killers.

"I meant no disrespect, it's just that Genesis isn't in a condition to be-" I sway and cling to the metal pole that hung the bags of liquid. My vision swims for a brief moment and I clutch my abdomen.

The leaders look me over, no doubt noticing my labored breathing, and the sheen of sweat decorating my skin in a thin layer. Hardly the picture of stoic composure I normally display.

I manage to stand straight and maintain eye contact with Falen's penetrating gaze. I'd not have killed him, he knows, but I feel it reasonable to convince him otherwise. Possibly convince them all.

I'd argue with Garret as well if I weren't aware of the burning sensation I swallow down every so often. I don't want to be touched by anymore Erudite, my expression should be enough and he will notice.

Falen stands straight adjusting his jacket, as if taking cue. "I'm sure she would be more comfortable in Dauntless, any follow ups can be taken in _our_ infirmary. She's been in Erudite long enough, any longer would be inexcusable and create insurmountable consequences."

"Trying to get back on her good side eh?" Max jokes, clamping a hand on Falen's shoulder. "Well Doc, patch her up so we can get the fuck out of here, it smells like Erudite and. . .Shit mixed with the kind of alcohol you can't consume."

Eric's hand closes around my elbow and I spin, putting speed and velocity behind the punch I send into his throat to crush his windpipe. He coughs out but his grip becomes crushing like he intends to snap my arm in two.

Without hesitation, I twist the remaining IV still hung to the pole around his forearm and I bring the needle down through his jacket at his wrist, his grip loosens as he swings his other arm to recapture me.

I shove with my remaining strength and he scowls, baring his teeth at me as he regains his footing against the cot. He pulls the needle out of his arm and pushes off of it as I take the pole in my hands.

It's Max who grabs me this time and Garret gets the needle to my skin while Falen prys the metal pole from my grasp.

They need to stop fucking touching me if they don't intend on killing me.

I don't get a chance to tell them before I'm unconscious again.

* * *

It's as if I'm just in a daze, drugs may be partially to blame. Though other factors include blood loss, temperature and the present company. Their moods light and relaxed.

Everything outside is dark through the window. It's nighttime, everything outside is still white and gray and my breath comes out like smoke, fogging the glass with every exhale.

Max's voice goes in and out, explaining that Dauntless has undergone some dramatic reformation. "We've implemented a whole new set of rules and everything for the coming year. Yippee." His enthusiasm falls flat but picks up with the speed of the vehicle.

He drones about Dauntless' new rules and regulation for Dauntless dependents, rules during initiation, rules for civilians, rules for active patrol, inactive and wall stationed and even rules for themselves, _leaders_. "Anyone caught out after curfew without a valid excuse will get a strike and subsequent strikes based on, well, obvious shit."

Falen tells me that the leaders apartments and offices have been relocated back above the pit and that I should be able to find them there, if _needed_. It's to accommodate the arrival of new leaders, potentially more than one.

"Trains will no longer run past 12 A.M. and then will begin running again at 4 A.M which is in lieu of recent _events_ and faction-less activity." Falen says. "In time you will be briefed on the alternate routes and blank territories, movement and whatever else is deemed on a need to know basis."

Eric nudges my boot with his and when I turn to him he gestures towards Falen's seat. I sigh and turn back to face the window.

"You've been out 3 days. Today would've marked the 4th." Eric says conversationally.

I shrug.

"Eric took care of everything while you were on hiatus." Max comments. "By taking care, I mean, the story he fed anyone for whom it concerned of your whereabouts."

"No one really asked actually." Eric whispers in a hushed tone. "They probably just assumed I killed you." He chuckles. "Or they didn't care enough."

"Given the circumstances everything was already set, it was spry thinking on his part though, Eric anticipated you _letting_ yourself get injured." Max continues obliviously.

"Now may be a good opportunity to fill her in before she's reintroduced-"

"Sometime before morning." Eric feigns a yawn, cutting Falen off before stretching his arms behind his head. "When she isn't under the influence of drugs and stops acting like a bitch." He flicks my hair over my shoulder.

I curl my hands into tight fists.

Max laughs. "Keep antagonizing her and you'll be on the receiving end of of a knife no doubt."

"Oooo really?" Eric says with mock excitement, earning more laughter.

"Your follow up is tomorrow evening." Falen says, interrupting with a stern cough, and I know he's talking to me. "If your pain becomes too much to bear however-"

"No need to suck up Fal, I'm sure she's got it all out of her system." Max assures him. "If not, i'm sure Eric can oblige her." He jokes. "Or she can drink it off."

Falen peers at me through the rear view mirror. His eyes are sunken and sleepless, his cheek bones more prominent, he looks to have lost weight. I turn back to the window.

As soon as the vehicle stops outside the large cement and metal building, I open the door and step down, sinking my boots into the dirty snow built up on the side of the curb.

The accompanying vehicle stops behind us and the others disembark, giving me nods. Guns tucked behind their backs, dressed in full combat threads. Security.

I watch them all walk up the steps and pull my sleeve up to check my watch, twisting it around my wrist. 2:59 A.M.

* * *

With a towel wrapped around my head to hold my wet hair, I examine myself in the bathroom mirror. Turning my arms and my back to look over my shoulder in what would be my first thorough examination of my body.

I touch my old shoulder wound, now just a red line before tracing a blue vein on my forearm to my wrist and shake my head, unable to fathom how I can possibly pass for just being ill should someone ask.

To say I looked sickly would be an understatement. I look _desiccated_.

My eyes are sunken, a shade of purplish-blue around them, my lips a pale pink only after bitting. The watery-blue of my irises, now closer to a dull gray. The colors striking in contrast to my papery almost transparent skin.

I shake my head once more and sigh at the pitiful image reflected before me. My first thought is to find out the reason they feel it appropriate to keep me animate in this condition when the plausible thing to do is eliminate me.

I'm a traitor, technically.

My second is that Falen is likely the one who covered it up, and I will find out why.

My third is that I must still be under the influence because nothing hurts as it should and it's difficult to organize the rest of my thoughts.

I press along my sides over darkened and tender flesh to feel for any abnormalities. Satisfied when I find nothing out of the ordinary, I tear open the paper package of two large sized sterile gauze between my teeth and place one over my injury.

Another over a surgically made incision sewn shut like that of a sack, holding my viscera in as if I were merely containing produce from Amity. The thought is dehumanizing and kind of humorous.

The tracker is still embedded in my neck as well, healed in and will likely stay for the remainder of my existence. Fine. I'm a tagged pet.

I grab a bandage wrap next and hold one end against me while I circle it around and around till the length covers my entire abdomen and then, I brush my teeth thoroughly, pulling my lips back to scrub my gums with the sharp bristled brush, taking my time to get every corner of my mouth.

When I'm done I press my palms into the counter and close my eyes, gargling the water, swishing it between my cheeks before vomiting it into the hollow sink.

* * *

"I'll give you some time." Eric says as he rises up from the couch. He tosses a book onto my coffee table next to a folder with my name written neatly on the tab. GENESIS.

I nod my head slowly and continue towel drying my hair.

"You know where to find me." He adds, fishing for his keys. He tosses a lose key onto the book before turning to me with a grin. "I've got a guest to kick out of my bed before morning anyway, I'll fill you in over coffee in say. . ." He glances at his watch. "4 hours, 8 A.M. that should give you plenty of time to feel like shit in your empty apartment right?"

"8 A.M." I confirm, draping my towel over my dining chair.

"To my understanding, you don't _need_ a ' _boyfriend_ ' anymore." Eric continues as he makes his way towards the door. "You're even authorized to 'wander around aimlessly' thanks to the uh- You know what." He points his finger towards the back of his own neck. "Granted you stay _within_ Dauntless and follow curfew. . .Try not to fuck anything up before your briefing in 2 days."

I wave my hand dismissively and follow him to the door to lock it upon his departure. He turns and leans against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest and I wait for his final closing statements, anticipating something imperious.

"She left a letter, if you ask nicely I'm sure I can remember what it said." Eric says with a bored tone. "I know there was something about. . .Hmm. . .Running away, off to faction-less. . . _Heartbroken_." His expression becomes menacing, with a wide smirk and narrowed eyes. "Just something for you to dwell on while you're trying to get some sleep."

I sigh in response and begin closing the door on him.

He stops it with a boot and reaches for me, I step back reflexively and he smiles before darting forward and circling my neck with his hand.

His fingers curl tightly around my throat closing my airways with his thumb pressed into my windpipe as he pulls me back and tilts my head up.

I grip his jacket without urgency and stare back at him un-amused. My jaw tensed and I keep my mouth a firm line although I can feel the urge to bare my teeth in a scowl.

"Make sure you wear a jacket when you go out." Eric says snidely, he leans in till his nose touches mine and I can smell his breath. "You're beginning to _look_ like a corpse too."

With that he shoves me, and I touch my throat as he slams the door behind him. I drag my tongue across the back of my teeth and vaguely remember peppermint.

A _scent_.

* * *

The control room is dark and quiet with a person at every console. None available for use. It doesn't take long before my presence draws attention and it is before I can leave.

"Gene! Holy shit!" Zeke attempts a whisper, that comes out as more of a sharp hushed call from across the room. I'd not identified the personnel on shift but apparently I don't intend to either.

"Zeke." Gus reprimands. The others turn back to their screens mumbling incoherently to themselves.

Gus gives me a curt nod before waving his hand, allowing me the use of his console. I shake my head no, there is no immediate need.

When Gus turns back, Zeke pushes off his console to propel his chair to the door, I step out of his path as he drags his boots across the ground to stop himself.

"Dude you. . .Look like shit." He says lowly, his expression becomes sympathetic and he grimaces. "We thought Eric killed you for like. . .Hanging out with us. . ."

"Is that so." I reply flatly. Zeke looks me over and smiles guiltily.

"Well Lynn said you were sick and went to bed, and Four told me he saw Eric over surveillance taking you to the infirmary and-"

"Zeke." Gus scolds. "Get back to fucking work." I look at Gus and he frowns at us before turning back to his screen.

It would seem recent events have caused stress and stricter security. I've not yet been filled in on everything that has happened over the course of only 3 days but its obvious that there was enough to warrant such changes.

I find myself wondering if faction-less is just an excuse or an actual nuisance now. I wouldn't be surprised if they became bold after being rid of what hunted them.

Zeke rolls his eyes and I grab the back of his chair to push him back towards his console. The effort is draining despite the ease of wheels.

"Wait, Wait." He diverts his path towards the lockers, taking off on his own and returns with an unopened bottle. "You look like you could use a drink."

* * *

I lean forward bracing myself with both hands, to look out across the rooftops of the city. I'm only several stories above ground, but the air is thinner, not quite filling my lungs completely.

It's cold. The kind of cold that seeps through my layers and becomes trapped within them. The temperature low enough to prolong decay, few more weeks of it.

I settle and take the bottle out, flicking the cap off the edge where it clatters against walls all the way to the ground of an alley below and I kick my heels against the bricks.

Down on the roads the yellow pools of the streetlights that are not yet broken or burned out illuminate where Dauntless concrete dips into the loading docks.

Amity was scheduled two days ago.

For the first few sips I let the alcohol sit on my tongue and then by the time the bottle is half empty I no longer taste the once bitter acrid liquid that sloshes down my throat or feel all that cold anymore.

"Gene?"

* * *

"My apartment is connected to this roof." Four explains before handing the bottle back, he gestures to a row of windows with the curtains pulled closed except for one, propped open.

I nod slowly and take a sip, pushing the liquid down with my tongue.

"It's gotten colder. Should you be out here? You look-"

"I know how I look." I say, hauling myself off the ground using the wall that lines the rooftop. He stands faster than I and offers a hand that I do not accept.

The bottle is near empty and the conversation has dried up, I suppose that happens when it's only one sided. He didn't seem to mind much but I'm not interested in listening to more updates on rule changes and initiation.

"Does Eric know you're out here?" He asks. I dust the slush off my pants and jacket, my hands are already cold and I rub them together.

"No." I reply after blowing air between my palms. It's likely he does though. I'm unsure if he feels it necessary to constantly check my location, or if he's even the one tasked with it.

"I know it's none of my business but. . .Did he hurt you?" Four leans in. I run a hand through my hair and almost check my wrist. I remember that I'm not wearing my watch.

"No, but you're right." I answer, pulling my sleeves over my hands and my collar back into place before sliding them into my pockets. "It's none of your business."

He holds his hands up as though he meant no offense but his expression is stern and his eyes become dark. "Hey, hey I get it, but, it's alright you know."

I give him a questioning but disinterested look.

"I mean, coming up here, if you needed somewhere to go. . .Somewhere to hide. Be alone." Four's voice lowers. "My _window_ is usually unlocked and I work most nights. . .It's warmer than out here." He shrugs as if the offer is nonchalant.

I press my palms into my eyes. "You shouldn't ever leave your window unlocked." It's common sense, unless old Abnegation habits still dictate aspects of his lifestyle.

"Like that makes a difference." Four answers flatly before leaning against the wall. "If _you_ wanted in, you'd get in, right? It doesn't matter if it's locked or inaccessible."

I sigh and take a final sip of the alcohol before handing it back to him. Obviously the conversation isn't over, just taken an unexpected turn. I'm slightly confused.

He finishes the bottle off and balances it precariously on the ledge with his finger holding the rim, tilting it back and forth as though he'll drop it off.

"Why are you really up here?" He asks and I'm not oblivious to the suspicion in his voice.

Maybe he suspects I intended to break into his apartment therefore extending the invitation in an attempt to. . .My mind is too fuzzy to deliberate his actions and I'd not studied the housing arrangements. I didn't know he lived here.

"Zeke pointed me in this direction." I answer. For a moment our gazes are locked and I cross my arms and settle against the wall, my back towards the exit and his window.

His eyes narrow marginally and he keeps them on me. I realize that I stand between him and his way out, though that was unintentional. "If I don't believe that?"

I shrug.

Four kicks away from the wall, with the bottle in hand and walks past me, stopping at my shoulder. "I don't know you, or anything about you, but I know Eric enough to assume any ' _friend'_ of his is-"

"I am nothing of that sort to him." My voice comes out a snarl and his flat expression doesn't change. I take a deep breath, as my nails dig into my jacket sleeves. "I don't have to explain myself to you. _Eaton_."

Four grabs my arm and forces me around to face him, pushing my back against the waist high wall. I'm too slow to react and he pins both my arms to my chest.

The bottle clinks against the ground without shattering.

I push back and manage to free a hand, curled into a fist and he dodges the punch I send towards his cheek before recapturing my wrist and pinning it to my shoulder, slamming me back into the wall.

The pressure creates a dull ache in my abdomen, and he moves a leg between mine when I plant a boot on the wall to push off it but he puts his weight against me, crushing me against the bricks.

"Did Eric tell you that?" He asks angrily, his face inches from mine in a violent scowl. "What else did he tell you?"

"Nothing I don't already know." I reply through gritted teeth before bringing my head into his.

Our foreheads collide sending a momentary daze through my sinuses and instead of phasing him and giving me an opportunity to retaliate, he moves my arm up so it pushes on my throat with my hand trapped over my shoulder and he slams me against the wall again.

I feel the warmth spread in my gut and an immediate heaviness.

" _Katherine_ isn't faction-less is she?" Four asks with accusatory verve.

I open my mouth to answer and my voice comes out soft. "No." My gaze falls from his when his expression softens. His brows knit together and tilt upward.

I don't want to see it, that moment, where he begins to piece together the _wrong_ things. When he makes assumptions and some false identity for me.

When he assumes I'm up here alone, drinking because of her. When he assumes I look like shit because of her. That I'm remorseful, effected, in pain. I'm not.

He pushes himself away from me, dropping my arms but before I can register what he's doing he begins to unzip my jacket. I grasp his hand to stop him, and shove him away.

"Was it Eric?" Four asks and I flinch when his fingers touch my bruised throat. His skin is hot. "You can tell me, I won't -"

The door to the roof bangs open and Zeke's laughter cuts short when he sees us. "Well, well, well, I hope I'm not interrupting something saucy." He jokes, I frown and zip my jacket back up to my chin.

"You told me he was a stiff, and he was single." Jests his company as they approach us. I don't identify her because I look to the ground.

"It's not like that." Four argues. I duck my head and move for the exit. "Gene." He calls and I shrug his hand off my arm when I feel him grab me.

"Don't touch me." I mutter under my breath, only audible to him, before turning back but Zeke holds another bottle in front of me, blocking the way.

"Sorry I'm late, we got held up cause Gus decided to be a-" I shove past Zeke and push the door open.

The bang of metal against stone and my boots on concrete drown out Four's voice.

"Gene!"


	18. Fear

I have only one memory of getting here, and even that is just a single image: black ink curling up the side of a neck, the corner of a tattoo, and a sway that could only mean I was carried.

Even recalling it all seems a faraway haze, what had caused my blackout?

This is not my bed. Not my ceiling. I'm not in _my_ apartment. The realization strikes fast and hard like a blow to the gut.

I lay still, breathing in the scent of the pillow my head is sunk into. It smells like detergent and something heavy, and distinctly male. It's difficult to take deep breaths while flat on my back, so I take short, shallow ones and pull the blanket up tighter around my shoulders.

The bed springs shift and creak audibly as a body turns and I screw my eyes shut, trying to appear asleep though I clench my jaw and I'm unable to relax the tension.

I want to break something. _Destroy something_. I'm also aware of the urge to empty the contents of my stomach out through my throat and mouth. The thick cottony texture on my tongue, evidence of my earlier alcohol consumption, but, this rage, it's consuming _me_.

The rhythm of his breathing slows and I prop myself up onto an elbow, throwing the comforter off me to get out of this bed. He grunts and I turn to see if I've woken him or if he was actually even asleep.

He is.

Or seems to be. It bothers me instantly, though I had no expectations. Maybe I wouldn't have been surprised if he were awake either. I know it's my own arrogance that makes me believe he should show caution towards me but—he _should._

My hands scour my neck, my shoulders, my arms. I'm still wearing the same clothes, though my jacket is gone and my shirt is stiff near my abdomen, possibly dried.

The bandages have been replaced as well, however, they are wrapped much too tight, which could cause the difficulty breathing. I hardly call this helpful.

Eric lies on his stomach with one arm around his head. His eyes are closed, his lips parted slightly and his breathing is slow and even, his snores muffled slightly by the pillow against his cheek. He has one arm under it and the other slung off the side of the bed, dangling with the comforters brought up to his lower back, twisted around his waist and legs, exposing the large geometric tattoos down and along the vertebrae of his spine and shoulder blades.

I grab the pillow and squeeze my eyes shut, breathing slowly. My hold on it tightens as I will myself to get out of the bed and out of this apartment.

My knuckles turn white and my jaw begins to ache as my mind struggles against placing the pillow over his face and smothering him.

I swallow down the smoke, dragging my barbed tongue against the back of my teeth and I force my fingers to uncurl around the pillow but the movement is so painstakingly slow and deliberate.

As if my body and mind aren't in sync. Finally, I grow frustrated with myself and fling it against the opposite wall.

* * *

Once I've showered and dressed, I settle myself on the couch with my toes curling against the cushions and my chin resting on my crossed arms. Only the lamp from my bedroom casts faint light through the doorway into the living area.

Shadows stretch and sway across the concrete walls as the electric bulb flickers. I stare idly at the tall and shapeless forms that meld into the darker corners of the room untouched by the light. The shadow that I cast.

It would appear forever night underground without time to tell me otherwise and if I didn't know better the passage of it.

My watch reads 8:16 A.M. And I toss it onto the coffee table where it slides passed the folder Eric left and clatters onto the cement ground.

If Eric was awake or woke up when or before I left his apartment he didn't make it known, nor is he appearing at mine. It's past 8.

I lean over to take up the folder, opening it to skim the printed files inside without really looking at them. I figure my head is a bit clearer now and I've put this off long enough. I'm also curious as to the contents, as well as insight to what Eric meant back at the hospital.

Only the dates on the documents call my attention, at first glance. I already guessed he was reporting to Falen so his electronic signature at the bottom of each holds no significance but, the _dates_ cause a frown and my brows furrow.

My teeth begin chewing on the insides of my cheeks.

The very _first_ report came the day he threw his boots at me, pre-dating _greatly_ what I originally thought. The next came a few days later, and then as often of the frequency of his visits to the tattoo parlor.

My immediate theory is that _Reid_ was under suspicion and investigation at that time and Eric was too 'nosy', so, Falen _may_ have simply diverted his attention onto me. This is why Eric was around so often.

I run a hand through my hair, to push the stray wet strands out of my face and skip forward.

Eric documents my hair change and other small observations with scribbled notes in the margin intended for me to read while looking this over, his opinions mostly. The unnecessary commentary is read with his expression and arrogant tone in mind.

I skip to the day after and keep skipping forward by days as his reports get more frequent, thorough and descriptive.

During these times the thought of Reid having accomplices was dismissed quickly by both Falen _and_ Max. There is no real proof that Falen was, or, is. . .However, loyalty could have kept Reid from outing him _if_ they were indeed working together. . . Max _is_ easily persuaded and wouldn't have been questioned it if they _both 'took her word.'_

 _But_ , _if_ Falen was, in fact, working _with_ her why did he let her die? Why didn't he just kill me? That doesn't make any sense. This all doesn't make much sense.

I deliberate for a moment and though I _can_ make a connection, I still have reasonable doubt. My mind begins to wander off, reflect, and I run my tongue along the bite marks and swallow a memory like bile.

When _she_ told me to choose that night, was she telling me to choose a _side_? I'd assumed it was to either kill her or let her run.

I shake my head. Is that how she said it? Or am I manipulating my own memory because of this new knowledge? There is no way to know.

But maybe there is.

When Falen wanted me to _remember_ , did he want me to remember that event specifically? Was it to commit to a decision or remake one? To what end?

What were my choices? Forsake Dauntless for _Divergent_ of all things, like she did? Is that what he's done as well? Am I alive, or is he covering for me because I made a decision similar to theirs? Did I choose right by _their_ standards?

I sigh and read a hastily scribbled note in the margin with an arrow circling a date. _'Amity day'_ A morbid name for an event Eric so likes to remind me of.

 _'Falen told me to shadow you, **closely** , which is why I was able to catch you.'_

I close the folder and tap my chin with it.

The rest of the words read.

 _'Then of course because of your " **carelessness** " - when in fact you were actually very cautious (I might not have caught you if I wasn't instructed) He got you to track down some random murderer in faction-less territory as a 'penalty' and that led to us getting stuck together.'_

I nod my head slowly to myself. It _was_ Falen who suggested it, on both accounts although, I had some un-admitted reason for just accepting it, almost requesting it, so I never questioned it.

A lot of meticulous planning went into this it seems; over a long period of time, though I can't quite fathom the purpose other than. . . To make Eric and I distract one another so that Falen could continue his activities without notice, whatever they may be.

So, it would seem, I really have been following by some design, one that put me when and where he wanted me to be, making me the point of focus and scrutiny.

 _Everything_ must have been deliberate.

I reopen the folder and continue skimming the margins for Eric's deductive commentary, it's unwise to go by it, but, it assists in my own deductions.

It should bother me that Eric is so well informed but it _doesn't_ , obviously I've underestimated him and as an Erudite the manipulation of knowledge isn't much a learned trait, and of course, with the right connections he can get any and all the information he wants.

 _'Message behind deaths.'_

Gordon killed people to send a message? I bristle at the thought but continue reading.

 _'A mother, widowed, with only **one child.** Ergo the message was meant for **you** , to get **your** attention.'_

I suppose that could be plausible. How did Eric come to that?

 _'Parents; of two children. Identifying the second party. Guess who?'_

Falen had two children. I puzzle over this a moment and pinch the corner of the file between my teeth. This is really _all_ just wild speculation. . .

Falen must have gone after me that night realizing that I might find _Reiner,_ or his body. That must be the real reason he followed me. He went to hide evidence, _or,_ he might have planned to get rid of me before I found any, or before Gordon could inform me.

But he _didn't_. Why? Why _not_ just kill me? Something changed his plan?

Falen _had_ asked me if Gordon gave me any other reason to kill him, and I said 'Just your vote.' His relief could have been because he _thought_ or assumed I knew the real reason or that Gordon had told me and I was simply keeping it a secret.

That I had _chosen_ to keep it a secret.

Gordon may have really wanted me to kill Falen because Divergent still got away even _after_ Reid's death which meant someone was _still_ helping them.

Falen was, or is. I don't know for sure. There is a lot that I don't know, and this new information makes it difficult to find any _one_ conclusion.

The last page in the file is a separate note. I read Eric's final scribbles with a book of matches taped to the back cover of the folder. He's thorough.

 _'There's an unlisted tracker in your watch.'_

Of course that doesn't come as _much_ of a surprise. There had to be some way for Falen to find me and follow me without my knowledge, he couldn't have been close, he had to have been far enough away for me not to notice but close enough to track.

 _Unlisted_ , I take it no one else knows about the watch tracker, otherwise, I wouldn't have another in my neck.

The request, approval and administration of the second, internal tracker might have just been a way for Eric to disguise his discovery of the first. To make Falen think he doesn't know about the watch.

Eric must have discovered it when he took it before and then paraded it in front of the leaders. _Falen_ was the one who took notice and told him to return it, Max just thought it humorous.

Such small things that escape my notice that, Eric, in the background caught.

He is _much_ _much_ more observant and conniving than I thought, it would be remiss not to suspect him of misdirection as well and I should act with caution. Or possibly not at all.

This could just be his way of manipulating me, calling me a pet in hopes I would 'bite the hand that feeds' as a proverbial example, enticing me with words like 'obligation, duty, loyalty.' For all he knows I'm already doing my part.

 _'I know you'll do right by our faction. You always do.'_

All of this may very well just be an attempt by him to create dissent in an already strenuous situation, its obvious he expects me to do something about it, and even without his expectations, it _is_ impossible to ignore, impossible to resist.

But not in the way he thinks. Still, his words ring clear in my ears.

 _'You'll see, and when you do you'll come to me. You won't be able to resist eliminating any and all threat to Dauntless.'_

* * *

"You look like complete shit." Gabriel says, he drops down onto the table, sliding into the bench. "It's an improvement though." He slams his tray of food between us and places an apple near my arm. "Like the smokey eyes. It totally makes you look sexy in an. . .Unhealthy way." He laughs. "So what is that. . . sexy shit, hah!"

I wave my dismissal on the topic of my appearance and take a bite out of the fruit, swallowing the chunk without chewing completely before placing it back to his tray. The taste is bland, and the black coffee I drank overpowers all other flavors.

"Right? That's what I said." Lynn cackles, she leans over and drops what I believe is her toast crust onto the neglected plate of eggs, bacon and other various breakfast foods that was placed in front of me by Jackie.

I curl my fingers around the cup she gives me and bring it to my lips, taking a long sip. It's bitter as usual across my tongue, washing straight down my throat and into the hollows of my gut. My 2nd cup in less than an hour.

Within that short time, the activity and normalcy of my current occupying company, became faked, in their incessant fidgeting over me, as they assume my appearance is only _partly_ due to illness.

That being, none have questioned me over it. They just hover, closer even, than when Reid had gone. That's the way of people, some will wait for you to show weakness whereas others are around in case you do.

They automatically assume I'll react a certain way, and I do. Still, I understand that maybe my way isn't like theirs, I've never had to pretend, though I know how to from watching them. The Dauntless way covers a wide variety of the same effect.

"Gene you really need to start drying your hair better." Jackie chastises, she pulls her fingers through my still damp tresses, catching knots and pulling gently. I wave her hand away and she frowns, placing them in her lap. "You'll stay sick this way."

"And?" I ask without inflection, tilting my head to the side to plant my cheek in my palm and press my elbow to the tabletop.

"Whew, if your sickness is bitchiness, I hope it's not contagious." Joseph laughs before sticking his tongue at me.

I give him an un-amused glower before drumming my fingers against the side of my cup to watch the ripples form over the surface of the dark liquid.

"Naw man, you already have a case of uglytitis." Gabriel and Lynn chortle raucously, and the food in their mouths becomes grossly exposed. Joseph threatens to re-injure his ankle. "Go ahead, I'll still look better than you."

I cast my gaze to the table and listen as they begin prattling off imaginary diseases, their causes and symptoms. Some of their humor seems a bit forced as well.

The food, the joking, the attention. I don't want it, I certainly don't need it.

But maybe they do. I sigh. Have I forgotten what other people need? Maybe I too, assume similarities between us.

"Can we stay at your place tonight?" Jackie asks, under the other babel. "It's basically the last day of Dauntfest. . . Second to the last I guess, if you wanna be technical."

She sits angled towards me with the same position, mirroring mine, with more ease but, under the canopy of her arm as she rests her chin on her open palm, sits a plate with a piece of chocolate cake left _untouched_. Her other arm cradled around it holding a fork that she taps idly against the table.

"Only if you eat your cake." I answer flatly with the same inflection, my finger taps the cup in time to her fork. The remaining days of Dauntfest have no influence on my schedule or decisions, then again, neither is her ability to finish her cake.

She laughs in response but it's a hollow sound, like that of a sigh and, I hear it then. As if her lungs have no space within her ribs, or as though her body can't accept the loss of air, the absence of it inside her.

I can see it in their eyes, and hear it in their voices. It's in the way they move. In the way they _breathe._ Watching gives me a feeling of detachment, like I am separate from everything around me.

I don't know what it's like, and maybe I wouldn't be able to pretend that I do.

"Yeah, I haven't been feeling much of cake lately." Jackie says with a wry smile before staking the fork through the icing and thickest part. "Besides, _Genesis._ " She adds with verve. "I don't see you really eating _anything_."

I shrug in response and reach over to drag my finger through the icing and scrape it onto my tongue. Ill be sure to get another cup of coffee to wash it down.

Jackie laughs again, more audibly and lifts the crumbling piece up, dropping it unceremoniously with her fork onto the already piled high plate in front of me.

* * *

"By the way, you're expected at Erudite tomorrow at noon." Max voice says through the intercom speakers.

I sigh and refill the active syringe with fear serum for the next leadership candidate. Although I can't see them, they can see me, and hear me from the mirror-windows to the observation room, and through the cameras in the corners of the graffitied walls.

"I am?" I ask duly without really expecting a reply. Of course I'll be there. I turn back to the screen that displays Paul's fear landscape and watch his progression through each scenario as he sits unconscious in the chair and then glance to my stopwatch.

"You can meet us there. . . That is, unless you want to attend the yearly conference. We do have some interesting topics to cover with Abnegation regarding faction-less policies." Max says.

My attention for the moment is split between the evaluation and timing of this potential leaders fears and the preparation for storage and recording of the next, as well as inputting the time difference and fear count from their previous evaluations.

If I had a spare thought for Abnegation or faction less it would be lost to numbers and analyzing of fears.

"Don't worry Genie, you'll be back in plenty of time for the fireworks and the. . . _Ferris wheel_." Eric's voice adds. I'm not oblivious to his mocking tone.

Paul stirs before I can voice a response and the screen turns black. The lights return as he sits straight up in the chair, blinking his eyes several times before accepting the hand towel to dab the sweat off his neck and forehead. "Thanks. How'd I do?"

"You made a 2.6 minute improvement." I answer while typing the new data into the console. He cranes his head and I turn the swivel monitor to show him the graph. It is a very big improvement from his previous 16 minute and 28 second time.

I've not been here for the few days of their advancement, but Max requested I be a part of it now and I had no reservations, or really, how they put it, 'I don't have anything better to do.'

If someone offers you an opportunity to get closer to your enemy, you always take it.

He removes the electrodes and drapes the cords over the armrest, giving me a wide, crinkly eyed smile. Paul, 26, a transfer from Candor and a member of the active city patrol for 5 years now.

One of the three remaining leadership candidates, which include Eric and Candice. They've narrowed it down quite a bit and will possibly settle for all of them. Dauntless usually leads has an odd number of leaders and 5 would be show of prosperity and strength.

"Well done Paul, you're excused. We're sending Eric in now." I nod my head in confirmation to Falen's voice and wave my hand dismissively to Paul's 'See you later.'

My fingers flit over the keys to bring up Eric's file as he settles into the chair and unbuttons the top of his shirt so I can place the electrodes, using careful movement as to not make skin on skin contact.

Two on his temples, one behind his left ear and one on his chest. I pay him less than a glance to check my work.

When I feel a slight tug on the hem of my sweater I frown down at the keyboard, his fingers curl around the fabric and I'm reminded of a child.

I feel that urge again however, the urge to wrap my hands around his throat. I believe Eric does this deliberately to garner reactions from Max and Falen, not from me. Theatrics. I've no problem with the pretenses.

Falen may have some agenda and used me in it, Eric has and is doing the exact same. Both of which have agendas that don't align with mine.

"So I thought about us." Eric says, his eyes are already closed as he lies partially reclined, I swab his neck with alcohol antiseptic and he pulls a finger through my belt loop, drawing me closer to the chair. "And I've decided I'd give you another chance."

I can't even think of a word strong enough to describe him. Apparently I need to expand my vocabulary. For now, I bite my tongue.

"Is now really the time for a reconciliation?" Max asks incredulously. "Talk about your relationship on your own damn time—I'd like to be out of here in the next 20 minutes, thank you very much."

Eric smiles as I position the needle filled with the fear serum against his skin between inked blocks and push the plunger to empty its contents into his system.

He removes his hand from me to rest on the armrest and in 60 seconds the lights dim, I start my stop watch.

Instead of watching the screen and his fears I watch the digits on the watch face glow and drag until Falen's voice asks. "What do you think of the remaining candidates?"

"Impressive." Is all I reply, my answer lacked real conviction and sounded like I meant the opposite. I have no real opinion on any of them, and I can honestly say I don't really _know_ any of them.

In time though, I will know them, and they will know me, maybe not as well as Eric seems to however. But he can know everything about me, it won't do him much good.

My gaze travels to the heart rate display on the console. His pulse elevates and slows with his controlled breathing. How empty his chest would sound without it beating against his ribs.

"Eric says you helped him get over a couple of his fears." Max chuckles, their constant conversation is exhausting my patience. "How did you manage that?"

I breathe out an annoyed huff and shake my head before logging the data from his previous evaluation as the comparison for the chart to be built on his progress from it.

"You aren't going to watch the rest of his fears? Maybe you can help him with those as well." Max goes on with a sly tone. "He's got like. . .How many Falen? . . .6 more? Then you guys would be practically perfect for each other."

I grit my teeth and grab the headset to put over my ears, I'll have to listen to Eric's fear landscape but I won't hear anymore of Max's immature ignorant teasing.

The first sounds I hear is of crashing waves and water. Soothing when you don't have a visual, but that and the splashing of a frantic swimer is oddly satisfying.

While I begin putting away the serum cartridges and the auto-injector device into the drawer under the console I hear the telltale sounds of a crackling and roaring flame.

It isn't much curiosity that brings my eyes to the screen but the sounds, a Dauntless afraid of fire? In the end Dauntless are consigned to flame.

Glass explodes from large windows due to the lack of oxygen in what looks to be a standard Erudite laboratory, it's familiarity lies in how they all look the same but I cannot deny the lingering discomfort that comes with recognizing that fact.

Curtains incinerate instantly. Flames tongue and lick up the sides of the pasty white walls and curl around furniture, turning metals and wood a scorched black.

From Eric's perspective he is strapped to a gurney in the middle of the burning room.

I remove the headset to listen and watch in relative silence as he calms himself enough to stop struggling and let the flames eat away at his restraints.

But that is not what forces me to watch with unblinking eyes, unable to tear them away from the screen as the familiarity suddenly becomes a heavy weight over me.

I can almost feel the heat from the flames, blistering and boiling my skin. The smoke clogging and scratching my throat and lungs, while burning my eyes.

His fear manifests from a memory. One we both share. But, where he is trying to escape from, I had tried to get in.

* * *

I retch once more and clutch the rim of the toilet bowl as the bile makes it way up my stomach, through my throat and out of my mouth. It burns like smoke.

The splash of vomit and water wets my fingers but the hand rubbing over my back and holding my hair is what I find more abhorrent. My skin crawls violently with the raising of my hairs over my body.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the infirmary?" Jackie asks me as she rolls my hair into a loose bun and ties it. I hear her gathering paper towel and I ignore her as I sag to the ground between the toilet and the wall.

"I'm sure." I mutter, accepting the towel and using it to wipe my mouth.

The cool tile presses against my cheek, and I let my hands fall from the bowl to wrap my arms around my stomach, just staring at the white tiles till I can see them behind my eyelids.

Quiet, hushed voices pulse around me like a second heartbeat. Hurried, rushed whispers.

I am starting to feel short of breath as the revelations begin to work their way into my mind, as if bit by bit they peel layers from the inside of my skull, scraping them away.

The coincidence is far too much.

I feel something, writhing into the empty space where the knife had sunk into my abdomen, and all through the other spaces within.

I gasp, pressing both palms to my chest. Now the monstrous thing has its claws around my throat, squeezing my airways. I twist and put my head between my knees, breathing until the strangled feeling leaves me, though I clutch my sweater collar tighter around my throat as if I could choke it out myself.

"Can I get you anything?" Jackie asks me with a tone full of concern, and I sense her kneel down in front of me though my eyes are closed. I want to tell her to leave.

"A drink, maybe." I answer hoarsely, and she laughs.

"Alright, alright, let me fetch your prescriptions." She leaves the bathroom with an amused sigh and shuts the door behind her.

* * *

The room is still dim, the floor still cold and hard, my heart still beating faster than normal as I turn the information over and over in my mind.

"Do you have any eights?" Uriah asks from across the coffee table.

I check the cards in my hand, I have one, but he's asking Lynn and I was instructed to only give my cards when they ask _me_.

"Go fish." She answers with a bored sigh before dropping her forehead to the wood. "Jo, do you have any. . .Idea why we're playing this boring ass game?"

They laugh and the cards get spilled over the table, the floor, or thrown into the air so I drop mine and grab my bottle to keep it from being knocked over by sweeping elbows.

I glance at my watch. 5:46 P.M, I have about an hour before I'm required to check in at the infirmary with Garrett. An hour till I can get some confirmation.

Everything else I've learned today pales in comparison and it's all I can think about. Eric Coulter. Coulter. That was not the last name of the Erudite that died.

Though I knew them, I did not know they had any children. _A_ child. I still doubt any relation to Eric and yet my mind refuses to cast it aside.

Wouldn't Garrett think it prudent to share that bit of info if he were related? Unless he did not know himself. Dauntless is one of the only factions with little regards to a foster system.

"Hey we're gonna go raid the cafe, what do you want to eat?" Gabriel asks as he nudges me with his bare foot. I look up at him and shrug. "Alright, a whole chocolate cake, coming right up." He musses my hair before vaulting over the couch.

The door slams and the room is left emptier as most of the guests have left. I lean back against the couch and rest my head on the cushioned seat.

My foot taps the cold concrete as I find patterns in the ceiling and I check my watch once more. I've never been impatient to the point of nervous movement, and even noticing my own displays I can't stop them myself.

I can't wait any longer.

"Where are _you_ going?" Jackie asks as I begin kicking my boots on.

I look to her and Shauna sitting at the round table going through what I believe is a tattoo catalog and braiding each other's hair.

"The infirmary. . . I think I'll go after all." I answer as I run my fingers through my own hair to flatten it.

"Do you want some company? We could go with you." Shauna offers as I step around the couch to the door.

"No, it might take a while." I admit as I open it to leave, I turn from them and come face to face with Eric, standing right outside with his fist prepared to knock and his brow raised in a question.

"Oh yeah, it'll take a while huh?" I hear Jackie call from inside.

I stop then and the air in my lungs hardens like drying cement as I stare into his steely gray-blue eyes and I see the lighter blonde curls mixed into the light brown, smoothed straight down against his scalp with enormous amounts of hair gel.

There is nothing childish about his face though, no features to match with cherubic cheeks, or peaceful innocence. Anything there was, had long gone with his time in Dauntless and left him chiseled and sharp, the severity of uniform black adding not just to his age but also demeanor.

Have I ever really looked at him? Does he resemble the little boy that I dreamt about? I'd think not at all. Not even a little.

"Going somewhere?" He asks condescendingly. I nod, without convictio, I was, I am.. "Or more importantly, why did you just fucking leave during my evaluation?"

The sickening ache in my gut that makes me want to puke, begins again. I feel the urge, familiar now, to wrench myself from my body, though, fluid expulsion is hardly a means to do so.

It is the same urge, I realize, that makes me want to _kill_ him every time I see him, because even a sliver of distance between us is infuriating.

I can hardly stand to be near him.

But, I close the door behind me, shutting us both into the hall. "Your fears." I say truthfully without elaborating. To say all of them in general would be some measure of truth.

His eyes darken until they look black, and they slant a little at the edges when he narrows them at me. It may be an idle movement when he cracks his knuckles but the look he gives me is critical.

"What, you think you're better than me? Better than everyone else?" He asks lowly. "Do you even recognize individuals _apart_ from the whole of Dauntless?"

I blink at him, of course I can, or do.

"I _am_ capable of recognizing individuals." I reply without an argumentative tone. "What I have difficulties with are adhering to, and practicing the social conventions that accompany the different relationship dynamics. . . Between them. Additionally, I think _our_ issues." I gesture between us, getting straight to the point. "Have. . . Escalated, both on a logical and an. . ." I clear my throat a little, as if preparing to acknowledge out loud that emotions make me uncomfortable. Even violent ones.

"You have no idea how Erudite you sound! Have you been drinking?" Eric laughs, his teeth a flash in the dark. "Since we're on topic, and you're so fucking chatty, I'm betting _thats_ why you chose not to go through _Dauntless_ leadership, isn't it?!"

I nod my head, sure, whatever he says, but this is going off topic and I open my mouth to go back to the subject of his fears but he continues holding up a hand to silence me as if I am a child.

"I'm betting this is also why you dislike Erudite so much." He taps his chin with his fingers. "It's your _self_ deprecation of the Erudite tendencies that you yourself display."

"Sure, whatever, but—" Without warning his hands grip my waist and I am forced against the wall. I immediately grasp his jacket but before I can shove him, he touches his forehead to mine.

I still.

The blue-gray of his irises shift and lighten, and the smile that spreads on his lips is playful, and the barest hint of a dimple appears.

I close my eyes, unable to look any longer. I feel a deep silence grow inside me, unlike the one before it.

"If other aspects of Erudite can be used to explain you then I assume that's how you generate and select relationships as well, based on usefulness, compatibility, worth—"

"This is not what—" He leans down and I tilt my head to dodge his mouth. His lips find my throat, and his hands smooth over me, securing themselves at my waist and lower back.

I am aware of the pressure of his mouth, and the texture of his skin as it connects with mine in grueling feathery light caresses, before growing hungry and insistent.

He speaks moving his mouth slowly up my jaw. "Do you really expect to find someone who knows you as well as I do, that would still _touch_ you?"

Have I given him the impression that I wanted—Needed someone, something like that? How did we get to this?

He presses his hands to the wall, framing my head with his arms, and _kisses_ me, slowly, on my mouth, under my jaw, right above my collarbone.

I stay still, like a statue, like I am not really here at all. Then his lips are on mine again, and he presses closer but despite the heat radiating off him, I feel colder.

His fingers slide into my hair as if to anchor me, he tilts my head up, and I hold on to his arms to stay steady as my pulse quickens, my nails dig into the fabric of his jacket but he takes that as encouragement.

He presses his palm to my lower back, pulling me closer. His fingers move slowly, tracing my spine through the bandage. My sweater creeps up my body, and I don't pull it down.

I don't know where the anger comes from, except that I can feel it swirling around inside me, violent and vicious and the strongest I have ever felt.

It makes me feel like I really have lost control of what I have become, of what I could become. Inside me is a beast that snarls, and growls, and strains against the confinements of my stoic calm composure.

And as hard as I try, I cannot contain it now.

I twist my fingers into his shirt. Our mouths mesh and part, teeth catching and biting at each other like we would devour the other. All I taste is alcohol.

My tongue is thick and heavy against his as they battle for dominance, exploring opposite territories over the sharpness of teeth and flesh of lips.

His hand moves over my cheek, and then drags over my side, fitting to the bend in my waist, curving over my hip, sliding to my leg and under my knee to pull it around him as he pins me against the wall with his hips.

"Come with me." Eric says impatiently, through breathy huffs, I clutch the hair at the nape of his neck and his jacket collar. "You'll have plenty of time to play doctor with Garrett when you're an Erudite yourself."

That's when I remember what it was I couldn't stop thinking about.


	19. Coulter

I hear footsteps and laughter at the end of the hallway, and we break apart just as Gabriel, Lynn and Joseph return with their haul.

Fatigue, a weight behind my eyes, creeps up on me suddenly and Eric appears seething, his jaw tightens and he towers over me, resting a hand on my shoulder with his thumb against my jaw and his fingers along the side of my neck.

The gesture is faintly threatening and possessive, though I think it not intended to appear as such to them.

"Have you gone over what I gave you?" He asks with business formality. I nod. He lowers his head to speak into my ear. "Then after your fucking _appointment_ , we need to talk." He says, his lips brushing my skin briefly at the end. "We have a lot to go through and little time."

"I agree." I reply without conviction. There is little over a month before aptitude tests and the choosing ceremony and I believe that is the time frame he speaks of.

He tilts his head down and presses his lips to mine once more, sending a sharp repulsive ache through my body in the form of a violent ripple that stops in my throat.

"Heeeeeey Eric!" Gabriel greets almost as if they've become better acquainted. "Did you come for the partaaaaay? Or just for the pu—" I give him a pointed look and he smirks deviously.

Lynn snorts and Joseph gives me an almost reprimanding look, shaking his head as they renter my apartment without a vocal word to either of us.

"Neither." Eric answers with a complacent shrug. "Just dropping something off."

"No way man, you got it?" He asks and I'm aware of the awe in his voice. I look to Eric questioningly as he pulls a neatly wrapped bottle from behind his back.

"Lemonade." Eric says. "Only available from Erudite." He tosses Gabriel the bottle and he manages to catch it though his hands are full. "You should try it Genie, acquire a taste for it. . . _Now_."

* * *

"Have you been experiencing any pain, dizziness, insomnia, loss of appetite—" Garrett reads down a list of symptoms and I answer yes to them all though it's been less than a 24 hour period.

The table is cold. Frigid, seeping through my skin, into my bones. Appropriate, perhaps, For all the bodies that have lain motionless before on this very surface.

The light above me is bright and I can see nothing else as I stare into it. I can see it blindingly even behind my eyelids when I blink and I focus mainly on the tugging of stitches and the prodding of cold metal tools.

"It is hard to tell with how healing will progress and scarring as it looks to me like—" He tilts his head up and looks below his glasses with furrowed brows, he 'tsks' as though displeased. "Strenuous activity is ill advised, Genesis, really, internal bleeding could occur should you stress too—"

"I'm aware." I state, interrupting him. I push myself up and begin pulling my sweater back over my head. He sits back and places his clamp and sutures to the side and removes his glasses.

"About the information you requested. . .It'll be difficult to obtain, if there is anything left on him. . .One of his terms was that his data, upon transfer, be expunged." Garret's explains. He avoids eye contact and I watch his nervous movements.

I nod slowly. He already told me what he could, which was that, the Coulters. Mrs. And Mr. Are alive and well, currently holding teaching positions.

Still, it does not quash my doubt, the coincidence is much too strong and his interest in Falen, I believe could be the product of those events specifically.

"I doubt Jeanine would destroy information." I sigh, rolling my sleeves to expose my wrists. Normally upon transfer any information, medical records, that sort, would expire and not carry over anyway, unless at the behest of the receiving factions leader and Dauntless above all would not request such. Why would we care what they leave behind?

Asking Garrett is the alternative I chose to asking Eric directly, but, I'm unsure if I can keep myself from doing so. I need to know, it's still all I can think about.

"Yes well, hence the reason I said it would be difficult. . .Not impossible." Garrett replies. Worried lines and creases form across his forehead under his wiry hair.

"Tomorrow." I say firmly. Not as a question or request.

He doesn't respond at first, just chews on the inside of his lip and examines the spotless lenses of his glasses before placing them back on his nose.

"Yes, well, about tomorrow. . ." He trails off. "You may want to consider finding an excuse _not_ to come. . .I can tell you that the visit will not be very pleasant, at least not for _you_."

I sigh and it comes as almost a soft tired scoff. "When has it ever been pleasant?"

* * *

"It's good right?" Gabriel asks with a sly smile. I nod my head and pour the drink down my throat. The alcohol mixed with the sour but sweetness of lemons in the lemonade dampens the feeling of excessive compulsive energy.

I've no way to expend it as most of it is violent. Once recognized, it is hard to ignore.

"Damn Gene, save some for the rest of us!" Lynn laughs and she pulls the cup from my hand, spilling a bit of the liquid across the armrest of the couch.

"Should you even be drinking if you're on antibiotics now too?" Jackie asks, she tilts her head with a frown and her hands on her hips.

"Drinking _is_ medicine!" Uriah bellows from his perch on the backrest of the couch. "The more, the better!"

"Dauntfest." I add with a shrug and her frown deepens but the others roar and the room explodes into excited cheers and laughter.

I find myself another cup and make my way back outside into the hall, fully intending on locating Eric. Maybe another cup isn't enough however.

"Gene?" Amar's voice reverberates down the hall, and I hear the sound of rapidly descending boots upon me. I turn and his hand seizes around the thick fabric collar of my sweater, pulling my face close to his. "Do you know what time it is?"

His expression is fierce, brows furrowed under his disheveled black hair. The alcohol on his breath, heavy and acrid. His eyes rimmed with the same sleepless blue and his jacket buttoned unevenly, leaving the last without a pairing.

I pull my sleeve up and bring my arm to level, glancing at my bare wrist. I had expected my watch to be there actually.

My reaction to his question causes a brief smile at the firm corner of his lips but when he searches my face, devoid of the accompanying humor, his brows turn up and his expression softens.

"You look like hell." He says.

He places his hands on the sides of my head, running his thumbs under my eyes as if trying to smooth the bluish hue out. I find that I actually prefer Eric's touch because I know he has ill intent. Amar doesn't.

"I've been told." I answer, curling my finger around my sweater to readjust the collar against my throat before taking another sip to wash the lump down. He eyes the cup with disdain.

"Oh you've been told huh? Well you know who told me you were back?" He asks incredulously. "Of all the people, Four! Why did he know before me? You've been back a whole day and you didn't think to—"

"I wasn't aware that I had to check in with _you_." I reply with verve and my voice comes out condescending though I don't really mean it to. These hazes are messing with my temper. I wasn't avoiding him, at least not consciously.

His reaction is immediate and his expression becomes one of hurt, like I've slapped him. "You're right, you don't have to. . .You're not a child anymore and I. . ." His face changes into a forced grin that looks like a grimace. "Forget how much of friggin jerk you are!"

He curls his arm around my neck and crushes me against his chest and with his other he takes the cup from my hand. I hear his heartbeat a steady thump against my ear and he smells like sweat, fresh air and something pleasant.

I can't trace where the sudden swell of desperation comes from but with it I wrap my arms around him, pressing one hand between his shoulder blades and curling the other one around the back of his neck, cleaving to him with ferocity.

His arms band around my waist and crushes me against his frame, I feel his hand stroke the back of my head, holding it there and I close my eyes.

I can feel his breaths against my shoulder, and his body expanding and contracting beneath my palms. It begins quietly, with the pounding of a heart.

I am not sure, at first, whose heartbeat I'm hearing, because it's far too loud to be my own. But then I realize that it is my own, and it's getting faster and faster.

It is like the surface of my mind is a frozen lake, a layer of thick impenetrable ice, and I knew there were things moving beneath that hard numbness.

Powerful emotions that cloud my judgment, and possibly drive me mad like it did to the _others_. Fatalistic thoughts, feelings of hopelessness and discord, losing control.

But I can't see or hear them. Only the knowledge that they are there, pacing along the edges, waiting for an opening. I take a deep breath and it turned rotten in my chest.

"Hey, hey, you're alright." He assures. "I've got you. . .I'm right here." He walks backward, pulling me with him.

I don't raise my head or open my eyes even when he stops and my grip never loosens. And I know what he must think of me, comforting me, coddling me.

Deceits favorite role is playing the victim, and a victim I am not. I am the predator, the one who destroys beautiful things. Who takes children from their mothers. Sisters from their brothers.

All with the belief that I am doing it _for_ them.

Forcing them to make a sacrifice for the 'greater good' That I make the cruel decision _for_ them so they don't have to and I know there's a part of me that enjoys it, and I hate that part. I try to make it easier, to make it painless but it'll never be painless.

I'm so tired. I want to hand it over to someone else, let it be the burden of some other. But it's not just what we do, but also what we do not do for which we are held accountable and I don't know what is right because now, everything feels wrong and I'm just so angry. At everything. At everyone.

"What do I do?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"I don't know Gene, I really don't." He murmurs. "But somehow, you just do it, and the next day you do it again." That wasn't the answer I expected.

I feel him press his cheek to mine and with it a wetness and my fingers clutch the fabric of his jacket tighter. It's silent with no accompanied tremble, no audible sob, just his tears. Like a secret, a secret I'm not supposed to hear.

My first thought is of when Reid had told me, that crying defies scientific explanation. Tears are only meant to lubricate the eyes and there is no real reason for tear glands to overproduce tears at the behest of emotion.

But I don't accept that Erudite thought, the cold logic, even though that's just like me to think of it.

I may not weep as they've wept, or bleed as they've bled. But then, that may be my punishment.

"Gene, you're crushing me." Amar complains and I hear the smile break in his voice.

* * *

"You're drunk." Eric states flatly, tapping his fingers—from left to right—against his cheek with an arm crossed over his chest. His eyes travel over me seemingly displeased.

"Possibly." I admit. "But before you say any—" That is all I get out before his mouth collides with mine and I am pulled around him, into his apartment behind a slammed door.

I stumble through the inky blackness and hold my hands out to catch myself, on what I predict is his table. The wood is smooth and cold beneath my palms and I turn to confront him.

"There is really no need to—" His hands circle my face with his thumbs below my jaw to tilt it up and to him, as his lips cover mine and his tongue delves between them, tasting I believe, the lemony mixture.

"Give in, Genesis." His voice says soothingly and I feel him stroke beneath my eyes, too similar to Amar's. "I know you want to. . . It's easier this way, let me make the decisions for you."

Whatever I was about to say gets lost in my head, and I press my mouth back to his.

He is insistent and rough, I touch his cheek to slow his kiss down, holding his mouth on mine and I can feel every place where our lips, teeth and tongue touch and every place where they pull away.

I breathe the thick air we share in the second afterward and the slip of his nose across mine and I sigh. Have I drank enough for this?

A low growl rumbles from deep within his chest as he grinds himself against me with such a hungry, insatiable need, unlike before.

I wrap an arm around him, pulling him against me. My fingers find the hem of his T-shirt, and slide beneath it, spreading wide over the small of his back as he presses me there, caught and trapped between the table and his body.

He kisses his way from my lips to my neck, where he nibbles and licks at bruised flesh and slides one hand up my thigh around my butt, lifting it up to his waist, placing me onto the table, and I feel as he rubs the swelling in his pants against me.

I lose my train of thought with my sweater now on the ground somewhere and my hands find themselves pulling at the hem of his shirt, he tugs it loose and I find skin.

My nails dig into his hips pulling him closer, but there is no closer and maybe I want to tear him apart, or maybe I don't. Two notions fight for control, both violent in nature.

He gives a throaty hum, like a purr as he lets his left hand squeeze and grope my breast, his thumb pushes down into the swell of cleavage through my bra.

His hungry mouth makes its way up to my ear, suckling an earlobe and my breathing hitches. "Do you like that?" He growls out.

I answer with action, using my mouth not to speak but to caress the tattooed skin of his neck to his collarbone, the graze of my teeth, maybe a threat. I could bite down and break the skin of his jugular.

The low, prolonged groan he gives betrayes the depths of his excitement and he clutches me so tighly as he carries me over to his couch, I think. Dropping me unceremoniously atop it, his body over mine.

I hear a flick and a dim light turns on. I thought he wanted it dark. A spark of hesitation arises when he unclasps my bra. It's easier in the dark. Preferable. Everything is easier in darkness.

Even as my full breasts are revealed and I feel that repulsive ripple up my spine, I don't stop and I slide my hands beneath his shirt up against the taught skin of his shoulderblades.

I focus on the mechanics of my breathing, imagining air filling every part of my lungs as I inhale, then remembering as I exhale how all my blood, oxygenated and unoxygenated, travels to and from the same heart.

It's easier to think of biology. Separate mind from body.

Air in, air out. Blood pushed all the way to my extremities—the heart is a powerful muscle, the strongest muscle in the body in terms of longevity and I can feel it bashing against my ribs and pounding in my throat.

When he plunges his mouth down onto a breast, I tense. He squeezes and strokes the smooth soft flesh with bruising motions. Ravenous with his calloused and careless hands, and only stopped briefly to remove his shirt, showing his muscular chest beneath.

Plucking his lips from my chest, he left my skin glistening with his saliva and the nipple pebbled. I lay back and let my fingers drift to the button on his pants.

I must be too slow because his hands take over and undoes it quickly, and he is already working my pants down as well, leaving me only in underwear and bandages. An unusual combination.

He curses, an impatient sound, moments before lowering and kicking his pants off completely, showing the bulge of his prominent manhood, through the thin fabric of his boxer shorts.

Brazenly I tugged at hem of it, unwilling to admit I have no prior expectation of a live male anatomy. And when his thick length popped free, it wasnt so much surprise I felt, more unease, as the long throbbing girth showed ribbed with prominent veins.

He doesn't notice my reaction and curls his fingers into my underwear, tugging them down my legs, nudging my knees apart.

For lack of a better word it felt. . . _Weird_. Having someone stare at me so closely, in a way other than medically. Then I treated it that way. Clinical, an examination, and the _weirdness_ dissipates.

He runs his fingers down, lowering himself, kissing upon my inner thigh. "I'll make this enjoyable." He murmurs as his lips worked up towards my hip.

It was only by great force of will that I stilled myself, as he lashed his tongue over sensitive areas between my legs. My entire body felt inclined to squirm and writhe beneath him.

I exhaled nervously, and was uncertain if I'd ever felt something more. . . _Awkward_ and my fingers slid into his hair, pulling to get him away as I squirmed up the couch under his grasp, pushing my hips into the cushion away from his face.

He grasped my thighs tightly, holding me still and his moist, barbed tongue flicked over delicate areas, prodding and pressing, moving in continual motion.

I don't know if I can take anymore. My brain was shutting down and my body was electric with sensations. I. . .Wanted him _now_.

It felt too good, it was hard to want it to be over.

"Eric." I gasped, arching my back as my hands clutched his hair and a couch pillow, with ferocity. He growled against me, and rocked his head probing and lapping noisily.

He rose, licking his lips and running his tongue over his canines, his eyes gleaming. His expression showed undisguised triumph as he positioned himself, rubbing the tip of his length along my slit and plunged his girth into my oriffice, splitting wide, straight to my apex.

"Eric." I gasped out once more in an agonized cry, maybe more out of anticipation than of the pain that shot up, and ached around the knife wound in my abdomen.

I closed my eyes tightly, feeling him filled so deep within me as I throbbed and tightened around him repeatedly. It burns, and he holds himself there as if savoring a victory.

"Fuck." He grunts out, he clutched my thighs and lifted them up as he began to pump his hips, sliding in and out again and again.

I was lost to a haze of sensations. Receptive to his every touch, unable to hold back pathetic whimpers, and quickly enough ocasional moans. My breasts bouncing with each of his unrelenting thrusts. It only urged him on to ram into me faster, harder.

The smack of his skin striking against the back of my thighs mixing with the slick mesh and his low grunts filled the voids of my internal cries as he rode atop me with a fiery need.

He pants, his upper body tense, making the muscles bulge from his biceps down to his abs. His eyes locked downwards despite his head tilted back, his lip caught between his teeth.

I avoided his blue-gray gaze and closed my eyes often but I could feel his body was coated in a thin sheen of perspiration beneath my fingertips, and I could feel his urgency grow as he approached his threshold.

He hunched forward, clutching one thigh in his hand as he supported himself on one arm above my head, his thrusts growing erratic as shudders rippled through him.

I curl my fingers along his spine, feeling his muscles tense and contract as he arches into me and I open my eyes to see his closed and his mouth hung open, letting out a groan of satisfaction.

He twitches and pulses deep inside me, releasing and lowers himself atop me, his chest heaving, sticky with sweat against mine, burying his face into my neck and his hand in my hair.

I move an arm around his head, fingers tangled in his soft light brown and blonde curls and down over the buzzed sides and held him there, my mind hazy with an unknown mixture of things.

He wrapped his arms around me and murmured into my ear in a weary husky voice. "It'll make your life easier, all you have to do is exactly what I say."

* * *

"Rise and shine!" Eric's voice is extremely loud, it wakes me like an alarm clock, requiring more of me than I could provide.

I stiffle a groan or possibly a growl and sit up, pulling whatever sheet is around me up over my chest. The movement sends pains down my abdomen and a disgusting stickiness between my thighs reminds me of last night.

"Morning sunshine." Eric greets, I feel for my watch blindly and come up empty, did I have it with me? "Too much to drink last night?"

I rub my eyes and try to clear my foggy head though it feels like thousands of. . . knives stabbing my head or mini men chiseling a statue out of my skull.

I can't recall the details of my dreams, but they left me with an uneasy feeling that clogs my veins and sickens the pit of my stomach.

"What time is it?" I ask, licking my lips. I can still taste alcohol and shame.

"About time for me to leave for the Hub with the geezers. Remember, you need to be at Erudite by noon." He answers. So it's around 4 A.M.

I press my palms into my eyes to dull the immense pressure pulsing behind them.

Eric walks to the side of the bed and I feel the springs creak as he seats himself. He unscrews the cap of a small bottle and holds out a dropper filled with clear liquid.

"Pain medicine. Take a dropperful every six hours, any more than that and. . .You know what? I'll administer your doses, wouldn't want you to become an alcoholic _and_ a druggie."

I squeeze the dropper into the back of my throat and return it to him. Then I run my fingers through my unruly hair and he hands me a cup of steaming coffee.

This morning he seems much more docile.

I take a sip, swishing the black coffee around my cheeks and watch him lean over to tie his boots. Maybe I shouldn't have drank so much after all.

When he finishes he takes the coffee back and smiles over the cup, his teeth flashing as he licks his upper lip. Even the blue-gray of his eyes is lighter.

"While we're gone, find a way into Falen's office and—" My mouth is on his before he can finish his sentence and I wrap my arms around his neck. He kisses back fiercely and leans forward, pulling me into his lap as he places the cup on his bedside.

His hands now freed, search around the folds of the sheets wrapped around me until he finds skin. Not enough it seems because he claws at the sheets, to no avail.

I attach my mouth to his neck and bite down, closing my teeth around his inked flesh and his hand grip my hip. His brow raises and he looks to the side at his watch.

"Fuck it." He kisses harder, drawing my tongue into his mouth, pulling me down against him. I push him back into the bed, straddling him. "Loose the fucking sheets." He commands flat on his back as he fumbles with his belt and pants.

When I don't move, he looks at me sitting on top of him. "What, do you want me to say please?" He asks incredulously but he smirks. "You must be _really_ hung-over."

"There was something I was meaning to tell you before—"

"Don't ruin the moment Genie, we both know talking isn't your forte." He insists. "What did I tell you last night?"

I frown and he sits up, grasping a fistful of my hair, yanking it back to expose my neck for his mouth. "Just do as I say." His tone is threatening, but intimidation will never have the intended effect on me.

His tongue drags across the fading scar on my shoulder before releasing me, and shoving me off of him into the matress and comforters.

"No need to make this complicated." Eric says rising to his closet to pull a jacket from a hanger. I press my cheek into a pillow where I lay and watch him slide it on, zipping it up to his chin. "Besides, dead people aren't supposed to _say_ anything."

"Dead—" He gives me a pointed, disinterested look as if to stave off an argument, though he's just contradicted himself.

Dead people aren't supposed to _do_ anything. Dead people _can't_ do anything _or_ say anything.

* * *

I shower quickly but thoroughly under the usual icy torrent. The pain medicine Eric gave me worked fast—the pain has already faded to a dull throb.

When I get out of the shower, a stack of clothes waits on his unmade bed.

The collar is thick and loose around my throat and the sleeves come down to my fingertips, I roll them up. It's a dress, and though it is conservative, and falls to my knees, it is not appropriate for wear. At least I deem it inappropriate.

Instead of going to my apartment to change, I head in the opposite direction. The hallways in the compound are empty except for a few stragglers. I assume they are just finishing their night shifts because they walk aimlessly blinking slowly with nodding heads and the few that greet me do so tiredly.

I put my hands in my pockets and follow the path through the pit and up towards the leadership offices. I came expecting it to be locked and made little work to get the door open.

Inside I am suddenly unsure where to start or what to look for. Everything is disorganized. Stacks of papers and folders lean haphazardly off his desk. File cabinets are open with the contents either stuffed or spilling out.

They just moved offices but even this is not the product of a simple move. Is the mess deliberate? I would suspect so.

Anything moved or shifted could cause a collapse of the paper towers.

I remove my boots at the door and move carefully, placing my feet in stratagetic angles on the carpeted ground between blank papers littered about. No doubt a boot print would be imprinted onto any of them, even a crumple might be noticed.

Behind his desk there is nowhere to step. I lean over a large stack and press my palm against the corner of the surface.

On a folder in thick black lettering is my name Genesis. He knew I'd come, just what — I shove the tower over and step on the papers, tearing several of them apart.

It takes several moment to calm down. To slow my breathing and I run my fingers through my hair before clutching at the collar of this stupid fucking dress.

 _What is wrong with you?_ I shake my head. _Pull it together._

And that is what it feels like: tightening everything to hold it all together. I feel suffocated, but I also feel compact, stone.

I take a seat behind the desk and shift the papers around till I find the folder with my name on it again. Opening it I find a letter and I know right away that it's the note Eric claims Katherine left.

I skim it over before folding it and tucking it into my pocket to read later. The rest of the folders contents are the munition logs and schedules for re-ups. There are red markings circling dates, some of which are coming up.

The past dates that are circled were dates of faction less attacks. Is this possibly predictions of future attacks? Or plans for attack?

There are also all the reports of missing people—Divergent individuals, some of their profiles have red circles around them and the others have their names crossed out. Are the circled ones those that got away?

I recognize most of the ones crossed out, and I also find Katherine's among them.

He's giving me evidence against him, to give to Eric? He must have some kind of plan, my curiosity and awe are piqued. His strategy is implacable.

I take the tablet Eric gave me, out of my pocket and spread the documents along the desk, pushing everything else off before scanning each one. He will know I was here.

* * *

I focus on the path of the broom, keeping my eyes on the dust that collects between glass fragments, cups, and cards. Cleaning up after them is not usually a chore but apparently I am not up to par.

I lean into the broom handle for support. My hand moves to my abdomen, it doesn't hurt but I can feel it worse than before. I have nothing to expel.

A hand touches my shoulder, and I twitch away from it. "Are you alright?" Jackie asks, her voice high and indistinct. She rubs her eyes as if just waking up.

"I'm fine." I say. Too sharply. I turn to amend it. "Just tired."

"I think you're lying." She says pointedly, with a yawn. "You look like you want to puke or scream or both."

I shrug complacently and I lean the broom against the couch, sliding my hand into my pocket to give her the note I took from Falen's office. Some of it was written to her.

"You know you can talk to me right?" She says. "I mean, it's easy to just pick up your shit and run from your problems like Kat, and not talk to or confide to your friends and keep everything inside like your friends don't even matter—"

I raise my brow at her, surprised at her sudden unexpected outburst, her eyes become hard and her fists become clenched.

I'm not oblivious to the hurt and hate in her voice, I know the sounds well.

My hand releases the note and I leave it in my pocket.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before smiling, and I take up the broom once more to have something in my hands. "Sorry. . .It's just, couldn't she have said something? I just can't—"

"Shut the fuck up!" Lynn complains from somewhere near the couch, her voice heavy and laced with sleep. A pillow lands near the planter.

I loosen my grip.

Jackie kicks the pillow to the side. "I'll—I'll see you at breakfast." She says and her voice is gravelly, her gaze downcast.

I nod my head once and she leaves the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

She feels abandoned. It's a never ending cycle and Katherine was right, it _is_ my fault. Everything is my fault. I've bred this hate.

I grit my teeth and the broom snaps between my hands.


	20. Garrett

I knock sparingly on the door of Jackie's family apartment and wait. Instead of going to breakfast with the others I had cleaned my apartment thoroughly and when I had finally gone up, Marlene said she had not seen Jackie since.

After about a minute I check my watch. It's 8 A.M and I have quite a bit of time before I'm expected at Erudite. I'm simply here to give her the note and leave.

"Oh hey Gene." It's Sean who answers her door and he gives a half smile. "She's in the bathroom. . .Let me. . .Uh, you can come in." He mutters before holding the door open for me to enter.

I've never been in her apartment before. I know it is shared with her older brother and her father but both work on the wall.

I step inside and glance around. It is crowded by furnishings, a large dining table that seats four, a couch, potted plants, paintings in frames on the wall, several woven rugs and long curtained windows with a view of the adjacent brick building, a design flaw I suppose.

Sean hurries around me and I stand at the door not venturing further into the room. It would seem like trespassing, even being this far inside feels oddly forbidden.

I don't usually pay social visits.

"Hey, Jackie." Sean calls through the bathroom door while knocking. Her voice cracks when she answers him. "Gene's here. . .So. . . I'm gonna run down and grab some breakfast. I'll get you something alright?"

"Al-alright." Her sniffles could be heard even from this distance and my jaw tightens as I swallow thickly. "I'll be right out."

"I'll be right back. . ." Sean says to me while rubbing the back of his head, he looks around nervously and I nod, he leaves the apartment and I remain glued to where I stand.

I wait and while I wait, I take in the rest of the room. There are so many trinkets and keepsakes, as well as family photos along the shelves. I even spy ceramic plates and pottery set out as decoration. The difference in our apartments is striking.

I find myself wondering what the point of it all is, why do people keep such things? Crowd their living areas with things they will never use. The very definition of excessive.

The dining table even has an embroidered cloth over it and a table placement, a basket with nothing in it though it looks as if there should be something to fill it at least.

On the very edge sits a large box labeled _confiscated_. My eyes narrow and I clasp my hands together in front of me.

Before I can think better of it I take a step closer to the table, attempting to see into the box by craning my neck. Why would she have something like this?

The bathroom door opens and I straighten immediately, and I realize I may look too stiff and formal. Jackie looks at me, holding a towel to her face and her eyes drift to the box and then back to me.

"Please don't make me return it!" Her voice comes rushed and she hurdles herself between me and the table. I am instantly confused. "I know I shouldn't have it, and I know we aren't supposed to keep anything but Gene, they'll just burn it! And then it'll be gone!"

I blink at her, and then I realize then, what the box contains. She is afraid that I am here to take them from her. That I will have them burned.

Her eyes are pleading and bloodshot, the gleam at the corner of them threatening me with fresh tears and her fingers tremble as they clutch the box protectively.

I must still be tired, because my mind stays empty and I try not to sigh when I speak. "I'm not going to take it from you." I assure. Though they _will_ notice if it's gone. "How did you get it?"

She sniffles and gradually releases it as I cautiously make my way closer to the table. "Well uhm. . .Eric. . . Actually. . .Got it. . . He said not to tell you. . . Or show you because you might not approve. . ."

I frown deeply, because maybe he's right, but then again most individuals only do things for one of two reasons. Usually because they expect something in return.

Instead of saying anything more I retrieve the note from my pocket and hold it out to her, gesturing for her to to take it.

When she receives it her brows slant upwards. "How did you get this?" She unfolds it hurriedly but carefully as if it hold all the secrets of the world and would tear or disappear forever if handled too roughly but if that were the case it would have burst into flame at my touch. "Have you read it?"

I shake the illogical thought from my head and answer. "No" before sliding my hands into my pockets. I haven't, not thoroughly but I am prepared for what the contents may contain however.

Whatever _is_ written in the note was written _before_ she left Dauntless, I feel that I've already received her last words and anything prior, well, it would have been amended, this is not meant for me.

At first I think about leaving, but then I watch as her eyes scour the page. They glaze over and sure enough tears spill from them and heavy noisy sobs rack her shoulders and her body as if shaking her apart.

But through her sobs, curiously, she laughs and her eyes light up, though the tears don't stop and they run down her raw cheeks and drip from her quivering chin.

When I'm sure she's reached the end I prepare to leave and give her time to recover herself and possibly myself from her display but, without warning, she begins to read it aloud.

" _By the time anyone reads this I'll be long gone. Don't worry about where I'm going because wherever it is, you know I'll be fine, cause face it, I'm awesome_."

Jackie laughs a melancholy laugh.

" _I leave my make-up to Ash so she can cover up her ugly personality and I leave my BB gun to Uriah, as long as he promises to shoot out Travis' other front tooth so he can't fit a cigarette between them_."

I sigh and twist my fingers together.

" _Now. . . I forgot what I was going to write. Oh, wait, Jackie first."_ She pauses and her fingers crumple the edges as they curl into it and the sobs take over _. "I know you'll cry, because you're a cry baby but that's alright because you're still pretty when you cry_."

Her lip trembles and she begins to calm herself down, smiling but sniffling.

" _You'll be mad for a while, and I know you'll feel abandoned and left behind, because that's exactly what I'm doing, but the point is— huh, shit." I scoff. "Okay, the point is I'm running out of paper, and I know you were hoping for something meaningful but all I've got is an old gum wrapper, which I'm sure will get lost with this note._ "

I didn't see a gum wrapper.

" _You're the J that comes before my K in the alphabet and the icing to my chocolate cake, which by the way is the best part."_

Jackie nods her head vigorously as if agreeing.

" _Joseph and Gabriel, I'm just writing your names so you know I'm not forgetting about you—_ H _ave a drink for me, have a ton of drinks for me cause it's Dauntfest and you'll be drinking anyway."_ We both nod our heads.

" _Lastly Gene. I mean Genesis. Like your name you were the beginning, and. . . Yeah that's all I got. I left some blocks somewhere for you to find and knock over because I know you really wanted to, ask Jackie._ " Her voice breaks all over again and she looks up from the note, and points to a room with a trembling finger, but her expression looks like she didn't expect this.

She continues reading as I turn to head towards the open door, but the closer I get the more tired I feel and my knife wound feels like it expands inside me, turning me inside out.

" _Your first thought will probably be 'holy shit' and then you'll think about how I did it, but I'm a mastermind, and you might hurt yourself trying to figure it all out."_

I lean against the door frame and stare at the far wall. The wall of children's building blocks. From ceiling to floor. Like a mural. With every color in mismanaged sequence with no pattern whatsoever.

" _But the truth is, I took a couple of blocks every single day. I snuck them out, hid them in my pockets, and even my bra and undies. That's not all though, Gabriel, and Jackie and even Joseph were taking blocks too. So there's ass blocks, boob blocks and dick blocks."_

I shake my head and clutch the thick fabric around my throat. The space inside me is profound, catastrophic.

"B _efore long, I built this entire fucking wall in Jackie's room and I just thought, wow, I'm so deep._ _Cause you know it's not about the blocks. We somehow build this thing together, without you ever noticing. We snuck some block out, yeah, but we snuck them in too."_

I turn to Jackie and it's the tears that stream down her face _quietly_ , not with trembles and shakes, sobs and tearing noises that I find deeply unsettling.

I see her sadness and I feel it like a physical pain but in my mind I would ask of her, where is your _rage_? For if it were revenge, she would have gotten it in my death, they _all_ would've gotten it in _my_ death, but that was stolen from her, as I had stolen from her before.

As I had stolen from them, everything bright and beautiful in the world, continuously taken, and I'm still here. Like a mocking statue, erected in the landscape of their grief and loss.

" _I know you won't even try to break it down, even though I said you could, but you know, you really can't, even if you tried because bitch, we used glue._ "

Jackie appears next to me in the doorway, and we stand shoulder to shoulder, My breaths come calmer than hers as the silence descends over me and fills my body like cement.

"Stay for a while, please." She says nudging me with her elbow, and it is not so much a request. So I do.

* * *

"Oh my god, do you guys remember this?" Jackie asks for the 50th time. It would seem the box was bottomless with what she could produce from its depths.

This time it's an empty pack of cigarettes and she launches into a tale of how it was aquired, and why, though really, it's just an empty pack of cigarettes, garbage.

Sometimes someone else will cut in to add their part of the stories and I find that I can hardly remember most of them. There was a lot I wasn't a part of by choice.

It is far, far too early to be drinking, but a collection of bottles begins to litter my apartment again. It is officially the last _day_ of Dauntfest and the night will be long.

When I check my watch it is 11:47 A.M. I pour the rest of my drink down my throat and rise up from the couch. I am late.

* * *

I arrive at Erudite an hour past noon. The midday sun is warmer and shines down on everything sparkling and white but the snow is still deep and my boots sink in on the steps as I walk up to the large industrial glass monument.

The suction of my boots as I pull them out to walk is heavy but I know the weight of walking into Erudite may not be all physical.

Inside, through the large doors is the reception area and directly above the administrative Erudite is a portrait of Jeanine herself. Her striking watery-blue eyes watch me walk up to the desk.

The Erudite behind the computer glances up as I approach and I don't need to say anything. He greets me with a forced politeness reserved for Dauntless, cultivated by their discomfort and our history as collaborative factions.

When he stands to escort me I am about to tell him there is no need but another voice interrupts. "It's alright! I've got it, I'll take her up."

I turn to see Garrett rushing towards us and the receptionist looks relieved as he seats himself back behind the desk without another word.

"You came." He says and I nod my head. Obviously.

"I was expected." I answer.

"Yes, well. . .Lets be on our way then." Garret leads me down a hall, though I know the way, he seems to be taking me on a much longer route.

I'm already late so I have no complaints.

I'd like to ask about the information on Eric but he walks a bit further in front glancing back every so often as though I'd have wandered off. If he is avoiding the topic purposely I will not pry.

The hallway opens to a large room where Erudite men and women in long blue jackets stand behind tables, some holding tools, some mixing multicolored liquids, some staring at computer screens.

None look up at our passing, fully focused on their work. Though it may be because of the privacy glass between us to prevent interruption. They can't even see us.

I follow Garret through the room and down another hall to the elevator banks. The elevators on the opposite side of the Erudite compound, not the ones usually taken.

The doors spring open when he touches the button without wait and I follow him in.

When the doors close he turns sharply and his hands grip my arms below my shoulders and he stares down at me. His eyes behind the spectacles are wide, frantic and pleading. The brown deeper than dirt.

The the first words out of his mouth are. "I need your help."

My first instinct is to push him off, but my reaction instead is to search the corners of the elevator for cameras. "Please Genesis, I can't— I will do anything—"

"Compose yourself." I command, brushing his hands off of me. He need not beg. I don't usually refer to our age difference in reflection to our behavior but for him to come to _me_ , he must be in a dire situation.

Garrett immediately straightens and smooths the collar of his coat down, folding his sleeves and runs a hand through his hair to organize the disarray but the desperate look in his eyes is not dimmed.

"Explain."

* * *

"So glad you could finally join us." Jeanine says snidely, the sarcasm is not lost to me, but her expression suddenly becomes pleased as if realizing something pleasant and she smiles without really smiling. "Well, as I was saying. . ."

Max sits reclined with his elbow on the desk and his fingers jabbed into his temple, a look of pure boredom and Falen sits rigid across from him, his fingers tapping idly along his crossed arms.

I take the only remaining seat, that seems to be much too close to Eric, who glares rather openly at me. Of all the people he seems to be the most bothered by my lack of punctuality.

As soon as I am seated his hand grips my thigh under the table, and though I did not change, I realize it could be used to my advantage, in my current position. I do not remove my jacket.

"—simulations induces a hallucination based on that fear, and then transmit the data to a computer to be processed and observed." Jeanine angles herself in front of a diagram of the human brain.

I've probably missed a lot of their discussion but the topic seems relatively easy to follow along, and it's not as though I'm required to provide input.

"Currently the data is transmitted through electrodes, that monitor the brains activity, as well as the bodies physical responses—"

"Why the hell are you late?" Eric asks, leaning close enough to speak under his breath. Instead of answering I place my hand over his, stopping him from kneading his way further up my leg under the dress.

He laces his fingers between mine but squeezes them tightly between his knuckles, as though accepting but still angry.

"By introducing transmitters _directly_ into the serum that gets injected into the system, we are able to cut out the need for excessive wires and electrodes. The data, is directly received by—"

"How long do these transmitters last in the system?" Falen asks, interrupting Jeanine.

"Until the simulation is complete, or if you will, until the serum loses effect." She answers, unphased by his interruption. Falen looks unconvinced but rests back as if suddenly disinterested. "This will reduce interference—"

"So no wires at all?" Max asks.

"Less wires." Jeanine elaborates. "Currently the transmitters only transmit a clearer visual of the _brains_ activities and the simulation, in other words—"

"We still need wires and shit for everything else, got it. Is that all?" Max finishes impatiently. "It's not as though we needed a new serum."

Jeanine frowns, unappreciating his way of undermining what she considers an achievement. Her eyes travel to me and then I realize why they wanted me here.

* * *

"It is a work-in-progress, so, many alterations to increase effectiveness will be made between now and your upcoming initiations." Jeanine explains. "But for the meantime I believe you'll see a definitive improvement."

"Yeah, yeah." Max says tapping the ashes from his cigarette. A familiar setting though my position is much more restrictive. To say it is a discomfort would be putting it mildly.

Jeanine leans forward across her console and crosses her arms, placing her chin on them and she gives me a smile. "We've also decided to revisit an older version of the fear serum for it's. . . Potency."

"Oh?" Falen asks but his expression is disinterested as he leans against the large window wall with his arms crossed.

"Potency?" Eric asks, with his hands clasped behind his back, seemingly more interested in whatever is displayed on the monitors of the console.

"The old serum, Genesis." Jeanine requests the explative. She has spent most of her adult life developing the serums and obsessed with creating more advanced versions of the technology.

"The old version of the serum had a potency level which overwhelmed the brain and made it too insensible with terror to invent new surroundings." I report. "Those that were—"

"Right, right, which was when it was diluted. I heard rumors about those incidents in Dauntless where people lost their minds." Eric laughs. "So there is some truth to it."

"Anyway, using the old formula, starting at the very first dilution as a base, we will work down from that. A stronger potency, I believe might help create a stronger simulation leading to stronger results and more data." Jeanine goes back to her console. "Garrett, if you will."

"Is all that really necessary?" Falen asks waving his hand.

"I agree, we can't be strapping our initiates down like that." Max adds before offering Falen a cigarette, which he declines.

They both seem unusually tense, considering I am the one in the chair.

"Precaution." Jeanine says simply without looking up, I hear the familiar clacking of keys. "Up until recently we've experienced seizures and. . .Uncharactersitically violent physical reactions. The serum will be diluted upon further testing as needed to be more instructive."

Garrett stands from where he was kneeled in front of me securing the leather around my ankles. I roll my wrists, and rest my head back. He gives me a quick sympathetic look and I open my mouth for him to place the rubber between my teeth.

"Actually." Eric interrupts, I look to him with a flat unamused expression, closing my mouth instantly. "I think I have something she might prefer more than that rubber in her mouth."

Max coughs out smoke and beats his chest with a fist and Falen shakes his head. Jeanine remains oblivious but Garrett stands with his mouth agape. I clench my jaw.

"Oh calm down." Eric rolls his eyes and kicks away from the console he stood leaning against and he strides to the chair.

I watch him produce and unwrap a lollipop. A fucking _lollipop_.

My chest tightens. He leans over until his face is but several inches from mine. I've not been injected yet but my heart rate is elevating and my skin crawls.

"Cherry flavor." Eric says with a wide smile. His tongue slides over his teeth as he brings it closer to my closed mouth, "Ah." He says rasing his brows and opening his mouth as if intructing a child.

I swallow thickly and watch the blue-gray of his irises shift in amusement with the fluorescent lights.

"Gene doesn't like sweets." I hear Max comment, it sounds nonchalant and faraway now, as if I've been submerged. "Shouldn't you know that by now?"

"Oh, I do know." Eric replies frowning slightly, it's a mocking frown like a pout. " I know _why_ as well, but I think she can develop a taste for it. Can't you, Genie?"

My eyes travel to Jeanine, who doesn't appear amused but she watches the exchange, with her arms crossed, tapping her nails against her sides. My look must be venomous because she purses her lips.

"That's enough, Eric." She says with a dismissive wave. That is enough, more than enough and I take a deep breath in preparation to accept it.

He turns to her with a raised brow, and I lean forward, clamping my teeth down on the stick. My jaw hardens as the cherry flavor breaks across my tongue.

The only thing I've ever hated more than chocolate, but no one could possibly know that. No one but the Doctors who gave them as incentives, and Jeanine.

Maybe I don't need his file after all.

"Look at that." Eric smiles once more as if proud. "It's not so bad, is it Gene?"

* * *

I jerk awake, gasping and clutching the chair. The muscles in my jaw and neck ache, probably from being clenched however long that took, and from biting down unevenly onto the stick of a lollipop rather than the proper mouth guard.

My chest heaves with every breath and my heart slams against the confines of my ribs, unable to calm down. I can't think.

"It doesn't seem like you need to make many improvements at all." Falen says and he sounds impressed. They all stand behind the console, and none of them look to me, more interested by what they're looking at. Jeanine beams.

I swallow an excessive amount of saliva tinged with cherry flavored candy and close my eyes, resting my head back again trying to relax my tense muscles.

My fear is not of fire, nor is it of failure. It is not even of war. I sometimes think that is is self conscious.

It was full of sounds, but I couldn't see, like I was staring into a black abyss. I could hear everything around me, the roar of an unstoppable fire and the cries for help of every victim it consumed.

The cries, first distinguishable from each other, steadily grew so numerous that it became one, single, sustained note of panic and excruciating pain.

The maddening sound stays within my skull and ears but slowly recedes as I control my breathing and focus on the cold chair against my sweaty palms, and the light behind my eyelids turning them red and veiny.

A tug on the lollipop stick brings the hard candy against the back of my teeth and I open my eyes to see Eric.

"Ahh." He says with his mouth open and brows raised, again. I release the lollipop and he places it in his mouth before beginning to undo the restraints. "Have you been drinking?"

His expression becomes disdainful as he swishes the lollipop into his cheek. I don't answer, as I spend that capability scraping my tongue around my mouth to wash from it the taste and focus on quelling the violent urge to tear his piercings out as soon as my hands are freed.

"Drinking is what _Dauntless_ do, in case you haven't noticed." Max says condescendingly. "I'm not surprised that she's driven to drink, being around you for five minutes and I can use a few myself."

Eric laughs and I remove the restraints around my ankles on my own.

"Was that all for today Jeanine? Or did you have something else?" Falen asks her. There is always something else.

* * *

"New data suggests that there are stronger levels of Divergence emerging, and If I am to develop a more effective way to identify them, I'll need to study—"

I try to listen to Jeanine talking with Max and Falen but I watch as Garrett approaches each table with that purple syringe in hand, my arms crossed with my foot tapping.

Not to mention Eric, with his arms around my shoulders from behind and his chin resting on my head constantly interrupting their dialog. "So why didn't you tell me before?"

"Tell you what?" I ask disinterestedly, if I recall correctly he preffered my silence, even used the word 'muzzle.' He is a constant contradiction.

Garretts hands shake violently, it would be similar to before without Eric present. But to his credit he is a distraction to even this and although I may appear impatient, I am in no rush.

"Don't be like that. You know exactly what I'm talking about." Eric says, pressing into my back. I put my hands in my pockets with my nails biting into my palms. "The reason you _didn't_ fuck, the reason you _don't_ like sweets and of course the reason why it's so easy for you to kill people."

"You seem to think they are all in relation to one—"

"Aren't they?" He asks lowering his lips to my ear. They're not nearly relative topics, but, what do I know? "Does it become easier to take life Gene, when you can't—"

"Yes. It is." I answer simply. "Which is the reason it was done, Eric, to make us efficient. Is that what you want me to say?"

"Are we having our first fight?" He laughs before placing his lips to my cheek, the lollipop stick angles and brushes along my jaw. "For someone so heartless, I'm surprised you're bothered by something so—"

I drop my heel on his boot and he chuckles. "Ah, how sad, to think how compatible our genes would've been. The perfect combination of Erudite and Dauntless, intelligent and heartless."

"Interfaction relationships are strictly prohibited." I state flatly. A sour taste fills my mouth. "And our relationship was not based on compatibility, rather, it's one of convenience."

"Keep telling yourself that Gene." He murmurs. "By the way, isn't now about the time you would take over for that useless tool? You know _spare_ him?" He gestures to Garrett. "He seems to be having difficulty."

Garrett is _appearing_ to have increased difficulty, but I can tell his trembling is far from genuine. I sigh, he's trying much too hard.

Eric removes the lollipop from his mouth with a pop of his lips and pinches my cheek till I accept it in mine. The cherry overpowers the flavor of smoke and he shoves me forward.

I touch Garretts elbow lightly and he turns to me. His eyes are glossy and I suppose he must still be afraid, not for the same reasons and maybe not for himself. I would not trust me either.

He surrenders the syringe and I approach one of the unconscious. A female who appears my age. She has pale skin littered with surgical scars and black wiry hair, her cheeks are rosy and though her eyes are closed I know they are dark brown.

"Thank you. . .Genesis." He says under his breath, the tremor is there as he backs away, running his fingers through his own black wiry hair. I sigh.

"Yeah Genesis, thank you." Eric mimics in a high tone. "For putting these poor unfortunate souls out of their misery."

I use my tongue to push the lollipop into my cheek. "It's a coincidence that you should think that way." I reply to Eric without inflection as I push the plunger and empty the liquid beneath her skin.

Her breathing halts instantly and Garrett turns off the machine as it flatlines, trying to make himself busy though I know he is listening closely. His shaking has already stopped.

"Is it because you feel the same way?" Eric asks snidely leaning casually against one of the bodies and the table with his arms crossed.

"No." I sigh again, placing the syringe on the metal handcart as Garrett prepares another for the last patient. I swish the lollipop into my other cheek. "Because, I put Charles out of his misery the same way."

A wicked smile spreads over Eric's face, stretching over his teeth. "I know." He replies with a complacent shrug. "I'm pretty sure I made it clear that I know nearly everything about you."

"Duly noted." I state, flicking the glass of the new syringe with my nail. I have the sudden urge to bury the needle into his neck.

But even if I were to use it on Eric, he would not _die_ , because this isn't death serum.

Besides, I _don't_ want Eric dead, not _yet_ , not while he has a use.

* * *

"You need something don't you?" Eric asks, his voice breathy but low as he tangles his fingers in my hair, my teeth pinching his earlobe. He shivers at my breath in his ear.

"I want my knife." I reply. His other hand grips my thigh sliding the dress up until it bunches around my hips and he chuckles.

"Now, why would you want that Genie?" He asks, though his tone is hardly questioning.

"And I want my mask." I lie. The answer to his question should be obvious now, and I can tell he likes it, by the way his eyes darken when he pulls my hair back to study my flat expression. "And possibly _your_ watch."

"Those Divergent weren't enough?" His brow raises but his eyes fall to my lips before pulling me in, placing his mouth on mine. Not waiting for an answer.

My lips part for him and he traces them with his tongue before yanking my head back by the hair once more and I feel his breath on my neck.

"My, you are insatiable." He purrs, seemingly pleased at the way I've chosen to go about making my requests, or possibly _of_ my requests. It is hard to tell which of his desires is stronger. "Did you find anything in Falen's office?"

"I did." I reply, closing my eyes as he brushes his nose along my jaw lightly. This is much more difficult sober, more than I thought. My nails dig into his shoulders.

"I assume you need these things by tonight?" He murmurs, talking into my skin. "You don't want to ride the Ferris wheel with me?" His hand slides from my hip to my lower back, pulling me down against him. "What if I had plans?"

He wants me to bargain. To offer something more. I don't ask him what he wants, because he could ask for anything, even something unreasonable.

Instead I kiss him, hard, and roll my hips against his already tented pants.

"Mmm, I like when you need something." His voice heavy. I hardly need anything enough to subject myself to this degrading behavior, but, it's not about me. "But, I've already had. . ." He moves his hand between us. "This."

Despite his words he begins kneading his fingers against me through the material of my underwear. I grit my teeth, and test my voice. "Then what do you want?" I relent.

"I'm so glad you asked." He murmurs, easing the material to the side, he spreads me open with two fingers, forcing my thighs farther apart and circles in slow motions until I am responsive. "For now though, I'll take an 'I owe you'. We've got time. . .No need to rush things Gene."

"I—" My response gets cut off when he does something unexpected. He slides his finger inside me, curling it upwards. I lift myself to get off him, and he grips my hip, holding me in place as he begins to move his finger slowly in and out.

"You know you like it." He insists, the more he does it the more I feel my flesh give in, in every way it feels a betrayal by my body. My breaths come faster. "Tell me." He lifts my pelvis and moves his finger in a spiral motion, rubbing his palm against my heat.

I hesitated, it was getting increasingly difficult to think and force my body not to react when he is so, so intent on pleasing. "I'm the only one who can make you feel like this." He says and he slows, almost stopping. "Tell me."

"Yes." I sigh, my chest tightens, physical reactions are easily enticed through stimulation. Pain, pleasure, it's purely physical, I tell myself. The reaction would be the same from _anyone_.

"Yes, what?" He growls. I close my eyes as he begins to retract from me.

"You're the only one who—" He doesn't let me finish as he rubs harder, easing another finger in and I gasp at the sensation as if he were rewarding me for my compliance.

A pressure begins at my center radiating out from between my legs, increasing in intensity, as he moves his fingers and palm faster, with almost bruising force, my hands clutch his shoulders to steady myself.

My body gives and a shudder crawls up my spine, the ache between my thighs released as I come undone in his lap, my eyes snapping open in surprise by my moan.

The shock at the overwhelming sensation must have shown on my face, because he grins before leaning in to kiss my mouth, easing his fingers out.

His lips, deceptively soft and alluring. He breaks the kiss and puts his fingers to his mouth to lick them.

"You taste awfully sweet for someone who doesn't like them." His eyes darken. He fumbles between us then, unzipping his pants. "Touch me." Impatience grated at his words.

My fingers encircled his girth, the skin there, smooth and velvety despite the veins, I could feel his heart beat as it throbbed in my grasp, rigid and hard like the handle of a knife.

His head slumps back, his eyes now half lidded and he groans, thrusting gently, almost imperceptibly, into my hand.

He places his over mine and guides my fingers up as if showing me what to do, moving my hand up and down, again and again.

"Don't stop." He moans when he releases my hand and I continue the motion unguided. Watching his response, I move faster, matching movement to his breath.

It's strange I realize, to use my hands like this, but he is using me and I am using him. There isn't any question to what will happen once our usefulness is expended.

The angle begins to make my wrist hurt so I switch hands and when I do he groans, his breathing comes faster and he does lift his hips but on the edge of his lap I am against the steering wheel and there is no space.

His fingers dig into my hip, I squeeze. "Easy." He growls, his eyes still closed. I lean forward and place my mouth on his throat as he swallows, and my lips follow the path to his collar.

He pulls my hand away and brings my hips forward, guiding himself, moving my underwear aside once more, I feel it pushing it's way in but his grip on my hips holds me still.

I feel the initial sting and then slow burn between my legs as he lowers me, pressing his hips just a little bit upward, slow, sinking bit by bit into my flesh.

I bite down on my bottom lip as he slides inside—inch by inch, it burns like raw skin. He stretches me out, opens me wide, at his pace, he wants it slow.

"That's it." He whispers as he sinks the rest of the way in. "Just like that." Then he thrusts hard, filling me completely, and I gasp out involuntarily. He smiles at the sound and rocks his hips back so he can shove inside me again.

The sudden change is jarring, and I shut my eyes tightly my head tilting back as he wraps his arm around my waist and grasps one of my breast with the other in a violent grip, thrusting upwards into me with reckless abandon.

I was taken aback at first at the violence behind his movements, the way it made my teeth jar and the vehicle shake, but I soon found myself overwhelmed.

The sensation between my legs an aching cross between pleasure and pain, something beyond comprehension as he moved in and out, impaling me again and again.

He grunted and growled, harder now, with fury. "Ahhh fuck, Fuck!" I held onto him tightly arching my back to receive him, my eyes shut tightly, his hand on my breast shifting back and to my shoulder.

I roll my hips as he rams me down with brutal strength, trusting up at the same time and I felt the ache travel up my spine as he pumps faster, each stroke as unrelenting as the last.

The wound in my abdomen grows hot and spreads, the reminder of strenuous activity flashes through my mind but then is lost to more of his vulgar language and I cry out—a cry I can't control as the sensation spirals and soars.

My head swirls with a rush of ecstasy as he arches up with a yell, hard, his body convulsing and I think he's done, he must be. But he speeds up, through my pulsing center and I can only gasp without breathing.

He lifts me up slightly so he can thrust even deeper and then he grimaces as if agonized, his eyes shut as his mouth falls open. He slides in slower, once, then goes still.

Then his fingers sink into my flesh, and a shudder goes through him. My mouth covers his and the kiss is hard, our teeth collide and bite at each other, his hand tangles in my hair, wrapping it in a weak fist.

"They must be wondering what's taking us so long." Eric breathes with a laugh, before trailing hungry kisses long my jaw. "Remind me to thank Max."

I sigh and let him force my head against his chest, cradled in his neck, I don't stop him when he strokes my hair, my lungs getting used to air again. "How did you get them to—"

"Max thinks I can convince you to stay Dauntless." Eric says. "Your Erudite has been showing and I'm not the only one that's noticed. . .You're the best attack dog they've got so of course they'd—"

I remove myself from his lap and straighten up in the passenger seat, pulling the dress over my knees before combing my fingers through my hair.

At least now my ' _leash'_ might have extended, if Eric believes I'm wrapped around his finger, especially if they _all_ think I am.

"You should try asking _them_ for something." Eric says suggestively, I hear his zipper and then the sound of keys. "You could probably get _anything_ you wanted from them." He laughs.

"Your humor is depraved." I reply flatly, before reaching for the seatbelt. It is my attempt at humor, that is, at the expense of his driving and he does laugh when I click it on.

"Oh I wasn't joking." He says as he starts the vehicles engine.


	21. Ash

"We proposed to expand the radius of patrols, or well, to focus patrols around the Abnegation sector where faction-less seem to be the most active." Falen says."Our objective is to keep the faction-less population within their own area and also to oversee any contact with them and Abnegation individuals from here on."

"Abnegation just accepted that?" I ask incredulously with a raised brow. My surprise is genuine. "The faction that controls the government has agreed to accept Dauntless enforced _restrictions_?"

"They didn't have a choice." Eric says with a sly smile, he leans forward in his chair. "You see after that faction-less incident, we have jurisdiction, and if they don't accept that, well, it really calls into question if their leaders really care about the safety of their citizens. Doesn't it?"

"Right now, Abnegation has some really compelling rumors surrounding them." Max explains next. "As you well know, some of them _are_ true, what's to say the rest of them aren't?"

I nod my head slowly, and I can imagine how they argued it at the conference, backing Marcus into a corner in front of all the other factions.

"Why waste the effort?" I ask then, leaning back in my seat. I pull the dress down over my knees when it draws upward, placing my hands in my lap.

All three of them look at me questioningly but I don't feel the need to elaborate, my question is straightforward.

"If Abnegation is abusing their power then by all means they shouldn't be in charge. Another faction like—"

"Oh like Erudite." I interrupt Eric with an eye roll despite myself and my voice comes sharper, this is _exactly_ what I would expect.

"I was going to say _Dauntless_." Eric counters, his eyes narrow at me. "Wouldn't it be more. . . _Fitting_ , for the faction tasked with the _protection_ of all the factions to be in charge of them?"

"The other Leadership candidates have no objections." Max says pointedly, he rests his cheek on a fist and I'm not oblivious to the flat stare he gives me, as though disappointed. "Would you prefer _Erudite_ in charge?"

I scoff and drop my forehead into my palm. Falen raises his brow at me as though that is indeed what I would prefer. That's not even what I meant.

 _Of course_ a premature assumption of my aptitude would lead to a question of my loyalty. How exhausting. It's up and down with these people.

Then I realize that if Eric _is_ working with Erudite, as I still suspect, then maybe I _should_ appear loyal to them.

I sit straight. "Well, yes actually, by all means maybe Erudite _would_ be better suited."

Max's brows twitch and Falen's expression flattens as he leans against the closed door with his arms crossed. His gaze is critical.

"Our society _needs_ Erudite to function. They are essential—without them, there would be inefficient farming, insufficient medical treatments, and no technological advance."

Though my words are true, a sour taste starts to fill my mouth and I try not to swallow while they stare at me. Nervous movements would give me away, and I've never been prone to such before.

Falen clears his throat. "I know, that you have been under a lot of stress of late, Genesis," He says quietly, "And you have done a great service to your faction and to all the factions. But, I think your current condition may be compromising your ability to be completely objective."

"Excuse me?" I ask, my brows furrow. Even though I am speaking under pretense, I find it hard to appreciate being undermined.

"You _are_ on drugs, and you've started drinking." Eric quips in, he leans back in his chair and his expression becomes amused. "Maybe you need more rest?"

I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear and try to calm myself enough to appear more disgruntled than adamant about what I said. "I don't need _rest_."

"Maybe, you need a _reminder_ then, that you are _still_ Dauntless, you haven't had an aptitude test and you get to _choose_ your faction regardless." Max says, he turns to Falen. "Aren't you making a trip to the wall in a few days?"

I sigh. He's right but I don't like the way it sounds like he's in denial. I find it strange that it should matter to him at all.

"I am." Falen confirms but his expression shows that he knows he is about to be greatly inconvenienced. One of the dates on his documents is approaching.

"You should take _all_ the candidates with you." Max says. "They could use a lesson."

* * *

"Well this _is_ interesting." Eric says pursing his lips as he looks through the documents on his tablet. "Based on the correlation between attacks and disappearing Dauntless munitions and supplies, I'd say the old man is using the attacks—"

I half listen and half look through a book he handed me on the human anatomy. It shows diagrams of the different bodily regions and their functions.

"Are you even listening?" Eric asks. I lower the book to look over it at him on the other end of his couch. He stares at his tablet with a look of complete focus.

Despite his tone he continues running his fingers along my leg, both on his lap as I lay across the length of the sofa.

I shrug before looking back down. He curls his fingers around my ankle. "Do you not realize that this basically insinuates that he is _supplying_ the faction-less?" Eric argues. "That our leader is a faction traitor and could be an imminent threat to everyone? Everything?"

I place the book on my stomach, holding the page and look at him. He looks lost in thought and the idle way his thumb circles the skin on my ankle, he must be also be concerned.

But, I doubt he really cares about Dauntless.

Seeing an Erudite, or former Erudite, process something is like watching the inside of a watch, the gears all turning, shifting, adjusting, working together to form a particular function, which in this case is probably to make sense of what it is Falen is doing.

I have to admit that I am curious, and I may be underestimating the faction-less but I don't think there is a cause for alarm.

The amount of missing munitions is so minuscule, that it was hard to even notice anything was gone, unless you were looking for it specifically.

Faction-less have a hard time surviving as it is without picking up a gun and poking at the proverbial attack dog. If they are ravaged by hunger and the elements I don't think they have time or the interest in being riddled with bullets as well.

They are unorganized, and would never be able to form or draw together under one that put them there. Dauntless has always repressed faction-less dissent.

"If your brother was Divergent, how are you not?" I ask nonchalantly, changing the subject, looking back to the book to turn the page.

If it is a genetic disorder, or disease like we believe, wouldn't the kin have the same? Or is it really that selective?

"Are you looking for reasons to kill me?" Eric asks with a laugh, before placing the tablet on the armrest. He tilts his head at me. "You're developing a real issue Genie, I mean can I really let you out of my sight?"

I sigh and take the book up again. It was my mistake for even asking and assuming he would answer me seriously.

"No really, Gene, how are you ever going to manage yourself in Erudite?" He asks, and I feel him lift my ankle to his lips, pressing softly against my heel. "You can't sneak out of there every time you get the urge."

"Why do you taste of peppermint?" I ask next while looking at a picture of the nervous system, I'm not ticklish but his trail makes my stomach twist revoltingly.

Standard mouthwash and toothpaste are flavorless which would not be able to excuse the freuency of his favor, is it candy? Tea? Erudite do favor tea.

"Ah, you must be tasting Lauren." He answers nonchalantly, sliding closer on the couch. "You have a very developed sense of taste don't you?"

"Possibly." I shrug, my next question already on the tip of my tongue. "Is your vi—"

"Are you jealous?" Eric asks slyly, he bends my leg and kisses the inside of my knee, rubbing his stubbled cheek against my skin. "Aw, Gene you didn't think you were the only one did you?"

"I'm not jealous and I've thought no such thing." I reply, before turning the page, the next illustration is of the human skeletal structure. "Is your vision impaired?"

"How did it feel to trade your unborn children for a lollipop?" Eric asks, I raise my brow at him as he makes a mocking pouting face. That was rather unexpected. "Does it bother you that my 'parents' were the ones that—"

"Not at all." I reply without inflection, turning the page to see a layer of muscle and sinew form over the skeleton. "But obviously, it bothered the others because your parents are dead."

Eric laughs loudly. "Oh, but you tried to save them didn't you? Little Genesis, the indestructible, the heartless, everyone's fucking favorite, everyone except _your_ mother who chose Divergent over you."

"Are you projecting?" I ask casually, the next page has skin, and I flip back and forth to watch as the skin gets put on and then gets peeled off the body with a turn of the page.

"I am." Eric admits with a wry chuckle, he slides his hand down my thigh and traces the hem of my underwear under my dress. "Are you enjoying that book?"

"More than the conversation." I answer before pushing myself up to sit. I swing my legs off of him and drop the book onto his coffee table.

"Leaving already?" He asks and it should be obvious as I begin sliding my boots back on. I check my watch. 6:54 P.M. He grabs my wrist as I walk passed him to the door. "Be here at 10, if you are late, by even _one_ minute—"

"Why do you care about punctuality?" I ask, he stands, towering over me and I am forced to look up at him.

"That reminds me, I almost forgot to ask you." Eric says, ignoring my question, he brushes his thumb along my cheek and over my bottom lip, leaning in closer. "Why the fuck are the Amity giving you flowers?" He pinches my chin.

"I never asked." I reply truthfully.

"Why the fuck do you _accept_ them then?" He interrogates, lowering his lips to mine. His tone is low, in truth they are just flowers.

"To see how long they last in Dauntless." I say before he covers my mouth with his.

* * *

"Why are you still with that fucking douche?" Joseph yells in my ear, over the sound of all the other yelling and cheering in the overly crowded Pit.

To say chaos has ensued within Dauntless would be an understatement, everywhere I look someone is engaged in some sort of inappropriate display or unnecessarily dangerous and reckless activity.

I shrug and take a sip of my drink. I've not eaten anything and I know alcohol consumption on an empty stomach is unwise but— "Last day of Dauntfest!" Someone screeches and I take another sip.

"He's been cheat—" The rest of his sentence is drowned out by noise and then someone grabs me from behind, wrapping their arms around my stomach.

The pain is dull but deep and I gasp more in surprise, and try to stabilize the drink to not spill it over others that stand around as I'm lifted off the ground.

"Gene! We're gonna light up the wheel!" Amar yells directly into my ear, he presses his cheek to mine and spins me around. "You have to ride it with me!"

When he puts me down I stumble only slightly. "Are you alright?" It is Four and his long spidery fingers close around my wrist as if steadying me. "You look like you're in pain." He says but his expression is flat.

"Come on Gene!" Amar yells, linking his arm through mine, he seems to have not heard Four. "Coming Stiff?!"

The invitation is extended to him as well and he brings his cup to his lips, his eyes never leaving mine though he releases my wrist only after I twist it in his grasp.

"Sure." He says with a shrug.

* * *

The Ferris wheel is a dark ring against an equally dark sky. It's metal frame shines and glistens, frozen, with icicles like fangs hanging from every rung.

It has no power yet but for outdoor vision there are small bulbed lights strung along old power lines, other security lights and poles, the same of which decorates the Pit.

I stand with several others, of which include Tori, Four and Travis. Everyone talks animatedly. Everyone except Four that is, and he is beginning to grate on my patience.

No matter who is taking, I feel his gaze on me and though I have my jacket, a scarf and gloves on, I feel the coldness inside, radiating outwards as I deliberate ways to stave off his attention tonight, or possibly something more permanent.

My actions must be deliberate from now on, weighed, calculated, and I _really_ don't want to have to factor in his interference as well.

9:13 P.M. I pull my sleeve back down over my watch and tuck my hands in my pocket, tapping my boot in the snow.

Amar had gone with Bud to start the generators that power his wheel, but he's taking much longer than expected.

It's not so much that I want to ride the contraption but more that he dragged me out here with the intent to _make_ me. I'll simply tell him I don't _want_ to and then go back.

"Somewhere you need to be?" Four asks, but his tone is disinterested. His gaze travels from my face to my boots. A guarded look.

At that moment a loud noise sounds out like the flipping of a switch and murmurs of excitement and awe erupt as the wheel becomes illuminated, brighter than everything else.

Anything I was going to say gets lost in my head as I turn, and a cold sharp inhale halts between my open lips. Unfulfilling in my lungs.

The lights almost explode with color and design in rapid flashing patterns from the middle, outwards like a firework. The ice I once thought would keep it from working now reflects the lights, turning it into a glistening kaleidoscope.

Every color, blinking in synchronized succession to form flowers, mandalas, stars, rings. My eyes are overwhelmed with following the display.

But the effect inside me is immediate.

Where my mind profuses beauty, awe and wonder my insides hollow out in the pit of my gut. I wrap an arm around my stomach and take a deep breath.

The hollow expands rapidly and my fingers dig in like I could stop it.

* * *

"You're early." Eric says from where he's seated on his couch, he doesn't look up or back from the tablet in his hands. "Your toys are in the bedroom."

I nod to myself and kick my boots off before walking to the back of the couch, where I cross my arms over the change of clothing I brought and rest my cheek on them.

He is still looking through the documents and does not look up. The muscles in his face are tense. His teeth gritted and his eyes hard.

I touch between the micro dermal piercings above his eyebrow, they're new, the skin is still red and inflamed. His brow raises but otherwise his expression remains unchanged.

"Did you need something else by chance?" He asks. I notice an empty cup of coffee on his table and another half empty, it's hasn't been long since I last left him. "Otherwise, I'm busy at the moment."

I push away from the couch and head to his bedroom where, sure enough, my knife, mask, a flashlight and a heavy jacket lie spread over his bed.

I shut the door and drop my clothing on the bed to begin changing, I decide a proper shower can wait on return to Dauntless. I pull the dress off and drop it to the floor.

The bandages around my waist have a large darkened splotch and I remove them. The skin underneath is slick with blood, and more trickles out between my stitches with every breath.

Its been on constant fluctuations since my trip to Erudite and being handled roughly but with enough pressure the flow is abated. I sigh, really my body is unmanageable.

I pull the shirt on and pick up the bandages, leaving the bedroom and entering the bathroom. There I dispose of the them and search Eric's cabinets till I find the proper first aid.

"Would you like some help with that?" Eric asks, appearing at the door. His brow raises as he leans against the countertop. His smile is sly.

I remove my shirt, careful not to get any fresh blood on it and in this light it does not look quite as gruesome as I expected.

His eyes narrow and his smile gradually straightens as he grabs a towel. "Sit on the counter."

He takes the first aid box from me, opening it on the counter and pulls out a sterile-packaged alcohol wipe which he held between his teeth, then an iodine wipe, a tube of ointment, two medium sized gauze pads, and a pack of suturing needles with a length of thread.

I would have been fine with just applying pressure and rewrapping with a fresh bandage but it seems he has more thorough ideas. I don't argue.

He leaves the bathroom and I slide up onto the surface, near the sink, crossing my ankles.

Eric returns with a chair and seats himself. I press my palms into the countertop, leaning back as he gets to work immediately.

He uses the first gauze to pad around the wounds, the little amount of prodding creats red streams that trail down my stomach and he drapes the towel over my legs to catch them.

There is really no need to restitch, and I would much rather he didn't but, he already begins snipping the old stitches and pulls them out with a pair of medical tweezers.

The skin is torn and at first I think he may remove the damaged tissue but he leaves it. Even with the Erudite ointment to speed healing, it would seem impossible to keep it closed long enough for the skin to knit back together.

"Hold this here." He instructs, placing another gauze against my skin. He gets a few more, possibly because the two he had produced weren't enough.

After a few moments of firm, stinging pressure on the wound, he pulls my hand and the gauze away to check the blood flow. The wound fills slowly with blood and trickles over again, but the flow seems to be abating with more pressure.

I'd seen him focused before but this is much more meticulous, it's interesting watching him work. There is something else though, his mood is darkened.

"You know, that I am not an idiot." He says before handing me another gauze. "If you lie to me I will find out eve—"

"I'm not a Candor." I press the gauze in place while he works open the iodine wipe with a smile on his face. I was not expecting this conversation. "Neither are you."

"Funny, did you know then, that _Falen_ has. . .slipped out of Dauntless?" He asks as he pulls the bloody gauze pad off. He sits back and his stare holds mine. "Coincidence?"

I don't answer. I didn't know. But I know what Eric must think now.

"If you intend on killing him, I would advise _against_ doing so now." He tosses the soaked gauze into the sink with the rest, then proceeds to swab the area around the wound with the iodine wipe, staining my skin a yellowish brown.

"But, if you're actually working _with_ him. . ." Eric trails off as he begins threading a curved needle with a frown on his face. "Well, therein lies _both_ the problem _and_ the solution."

I raise my brow in a question. Before I can say anything he stands and his hand clamps over my mouth squeezing my jaw tightly, shoving me against the mirror.

His expression is fierce, and his eyes alight.

"I know what you're capable of, I know you could and would do just about _anything_ to get what you want." He sneers. "That isn't necessarily a bad thing, but in my case you can see how it might piss me off right?"

"Yes." I reply. He would assume I'm compliant because Falen needs me to be, that I am here with him because Falen wants me to be. That I am sneaking out for a rendezvous.

I couldn't have factored this in because I'd never expect Falen to be so. . .Careless. How could he be? He knows Eric is watching him, he has to know. Why would he be sneaking around?

"Are you or are you not working with Falen?" He asks bluntly. I could say yes, but technically I'm not, I could say no, but, he wouldn't just take my word.

Still. "I am not." I state. He doesn't relax and his hold gets tighter.

"Well, you're going to." He says simply, and I am instantly confused. "You're going to find out what it is he's doing, who he's working with and why."

"Wh—"

"You see, he's had numerous opportunities to kill you, and I think he intended to, but, he didn't. Which means, Genesis?" He asks with a tone like Jeanines, requesting an explative but his grip tightens, his fingers press harder, he doesn't want me to speak.

I remain passive and maintain eye contact though it is quite jarring that he can go from docile to aggressive in the time it takes to blink.

He's maniacal. His expectations unmeasurable.

"It means, he needs you for something, and soon enough he'll call on you to fulfill whatever that is." Eric says, releasing my face to settle back in his chair. "So, tonight if you see him— Or maybe I should say _when_ you see him, anything you learn, anyone you see, you will report back to _me_."

I wipe my face with the back of my hand to get the blood I feel off. The only thing he didn't say was ' _Or else_.' But it is loud and clear in his expression.

Eric doesn't say another word and the silence is tense, all the muscles in his face are pulled tight. I don't say anything either.

It takes about ten minutes to close the wound with his stitching and his work is neat though he had to stitch higher, unable to use the skin already torn.

His expression is placid as he examines his work and he stands to turn the sink on, the blood on his hands turns the water pink and the sink fills as the gauze clog his drain.

I pull my shirt back over my head as he turns off the water and dries his hands with a towel, and he steps back in front of me, tilting my head up to wipe my cheek.

"Get dressed." He says and his tone is not nearly as sharp. "Then, you and I are going to see the fireworks." He smiles ruefully.

"No." My reply comes fast and forceful. I do not want to watch the fireworks. He places his hands on the counter on both sides and leans in. "If I'm to meet your expectations, I need space, I can't continue to appear close to you or he will ne—"

"Are you breaking up with me?" A wide toothy smile breaks over Eric's face, suddenly back to his complacent mood. "Just get dressed."

He pushes away and takes the chair with him out of the bathroom, I slide down and grab several sterile gauze a bandage wrap and a packaged needle and thread but leave everything as it is and make my way to the bedroom closing the door completely behind me.

I pull my pants on and string the belt not too tight, and I pull the jacket on, slipping the flashlight and everything else into one of the pockets.

Then I wrap the scarf around my head and grab my gloves in a fist. I won't watch the fireworks, I'm leaving _now_. I'm impatient to leave.

A knock sounds at Eric's door and I slide my knife into my boot and put them on before tucking the mask into my pants.

"You're here _extremely_ fucking early." Eric's tone is disdainful and low. I pause at the door with my hand over the handle awaiting a response.

"Oh I know but my shift just got off, thought I'd surprise you, besides better early than late with you, right?" It's a female voice and I sigh before opening it. "You get mad if I'm late, mad if I'm early, can't ever win with you."

Lauren pushes past Eric into the apartment and halts when she sees me. Her expression instantly surprised, the rings in her lip get sucked between her teeth in an awkward large smile.

I pull my sleeve up and begin to remove my watch. Eric smirks and leans against the open door and begins to remove his.

"Lauren agreed to keep me company while you're out having _fun_." He says with a shrug before stepping around her, he trades our watches and straps his to my wrist.

Lauren pulls her jacket sleeve up and extends her wrist as well. "I hope you don't mind." She says to me as he begins strapping _my_ watch around _her_ tattooed wrist.

She tucks a strand of her purple and black hair behind her ear and for her tone, her expression is strained and I see her swallow thickly. Nervous. Fearful?

"Oh jeez, I didn't mean—I mean the watch, I hope you don't mind me wearing your watch—" She amends hurriedly. "Not that— I mean—Not this." She gestures between her and Eric who laughs.

I sigh and head for the door. He can watch the fireworks with Lauren.

* * *

I catch the last running train and get off several miles from Erudite but, I am constantly watching my back and searching corners, every flick of a shadow, or sway of a broken streetlight turns my head and my eyes scour the empty roads.

I walk in the shadows of buildings, my footsteps crisp over snow and slushed asphalt. None of the city lights are on in this area, but the moon is bright enough that I can walk by it without too much trouble.

The buildings around me tower above, monoliths of glass and steel, brick and plaster. I stare into shattered windows on higher floors expecting movement but find none.

My breath is loud and hot with the scarf over the bottom half of my face. It feels like I've done this a thousand times before, and maybe, a thousand times too much.

I head a few blocks closer in Erudites direction where the roads are clearer, having been plowed. I can see the drains and the curbs that distinguish he road from sidewalks.

A flash of headlights makes me duck into a dark alley and I press myself against the wall as one of the Dauntless patrol make their rounds down the block.

When it disappears down another street I sprint out onto the road and dust slush off of a manhole cover, I bite and pull one of my gloves off to slide a finger into a hole in the lid, curling it and I brace my boots on each side, gritting my teeth to lift it and drag it to expose a black hole leading into the bowels of the city.

I locate the ladder and slip in, climbing down several rungs before weaving my boots into a rung to hold me as I strain to pull the cover back over, sealing me in the dark underground.

Incased within the sewer I feel and climb my way down until I reach the sodden ground where I pull out the flashlight and click it on.

The tunnel before me is high enough to walk upright but lower than a normal ceiling. The width just a few feet wider than a door. My light does not shine far enough to see into into depths but I start down it.

I stay in the middle, unwilling to hug the grimy walls, oozing with either moss or mold, of which I am unsure but the musky smell of lingering stale air could be smelled along with waste and rank garbage.

My boots step over deep rivets filled with water, puddles that catch drips that echo with each water droplet and the patter of my footfalls.

Rats scatter in front of me with squeaks of terror, and I see only their tails, slipping between mounds of waste, or scuttling into cracks.

I breathe through my mouth and adjust the scarf over my face. In my head I have memorized the twists and turns that will take me directly under Erudite, though never once did I imagine myself traversing sewer tunnels.

After many twists and turns I arrive in a larger tunnel, the ceiling lifts and the ground separates around a rectangular pit of murky water. Along the walls there are large steel doors and I approach each one reading the faded lettering.

I find E6 and work to twist the deadbolt cylinder to disengage the lock. The first comes undone with a large clack and a spring loaded square below the first, opens, requiring a key.

I unzip my jacket and retrieve my knife, placing the handle between my teeth and I roll my shirt up, tucking it into my bra. Then I hold the flashlight between my chin and sternum to shine light over my stitched wounds.

There was nowhere else to put it in Erudite, at least, nowhere I didn't think would be touched, and it be discovered.

With my knife I cut the stitches of the corner and I take deep breaths and then hold one, making it solid in my chest as I bite the handle once more, remove a glove and separate my skin, placing two fingers inside my wound.

The pain is intense and sends a fiery burst through my vision, bile rises up my throat and I bite harder digging deeper until I can push the key out of my flesh.

I slide the bloody key into the lock and wipe my hand on my pants before placing a gauze and wrapping my abdomen with the bandage wraps, stitches can wait.

I sheathed my knife in my boot once more and fixed my shirt back down, rezipping my jacket before pulling the hood tighter. I put the flashlight between my teeth now and strain to drag the now unlocked door open.

It is much heavier than the manhole cover and when I get it open wide enough to slip into I pause to catch my breath against it. I've never gotten exhausted so quickly but I suppose physically I'm not

I peek inside and visually inspect what I could of its interior and then checked my watch. It was just about midnight and Garret told me the incinerator would be delayed until 1:30 tonight.

I squeeze myself inside and was immediately assaulted by the smell. I knew it well. The rank stench of charred flesh and ash. It was mixed with the heavy musk of compact air and trash, long sealed inside this incinerator.

Dauntless cremate their dead but Erudite, Erudite simply incinerate them the same way they do with their waste and trash.

I walk in and shine my light up to the high ceiling and up the long narrow shute, I check my watch once more. 6 minutes till midnight.

I shine the light around me at the ground. Ash. All ash and dust beneath my boots. I pull my scarf back over my nose and mouth, to keep the stray mites from drifting and filling my lungs.

For a while I wait and then I push the heavy door a little further open. Then I pace along the length of the room beneath the shute.

My abdomen is burning and I recognize that sickened rolling in my gut at the thought of facing Divergent. My hand moves to my back pocket and my fingers wrap around the mask.

I relent and put it on just as a loud metalic shift and click sounds out and echoes far above me. I shut my light off take a few steps back until I am nearly against the wall.

A faint light filters down and with it, I watch as the first body bag drops down and lands with a loud thump on the ashen ground. Then the next and another on top.

Three Divergent.


	22. Dark

A third and forth bag drop, followed by a fifth, though they are much lighter and land with a muffled thump before rolling over the ground, one lands at my feet.

As soon as the light disappears with the skidding of metal and bathes me in darkness once more, I move. The flashlight once again shining a pool of light on the grayish tarp of body bags.

Every part of my body is tense, pulled together and hardened. I barely breathe the air now filed with disturbed ash, I can feel the spores float and drift around me in the dark spaces.

I pull my mask up over my head under my hood and bite the handle of the flashlight to grip the frayed edges of one bag and haul it off the others, spreading them out along the ground.

Then I step over one, pinching the end of the bag and gripping the zipper to open it.

The sight of her chokes the air in my throat and my body shudders. Her eyes are closed with a purple hue around them. Her lips, the same color. Her hair is black and wiry and even as I see how this girl could never be me: her limbs too long and gangly, and her features softer and plumper than my own.

But for a moment, for the heartbeat before my mind is able to discern these differences, I'm lost in the idea of how such a vast difference in the circumstances of our existences would place her in this bag and I, standing over it.

I realize that I don't understand the sort of devotion that could overpower someone to the point where they would throw everything in life away for a _single_ person. Especially a Divergent.

What could cause such overwhelming desire to join another in the afterlife? Even love seems too small a concept to explain such a vast waste.

I shine the light around the room again and unzip the other two. Both male.

Garrett had said the paralytic could last an upwards of 8 to 9 hours, if given the amount that you would normally administer of the death serum.

My mind tries to calculate the time they should awaken while my hands search the linings of the bag around their bodies. Coming up empty, I focus on the other bags, the first contains trash, the second, more trash.

The third contains clothing and shoes but nothing more, I wasn't sure what else to expect. Something to tell me their names at least?

I wait, expectantly for a twitch. A signal that they could come too. My eyes constantly check the time on my watch and every time I do I can feel the change drag on as if every minute is burrowing it's way behind my eyes.

My next thought is how impossibly dark it is. They will wake up to it, but it will seem as if their eyes are still closed. Would they mistake this for a dream? Then they will see me. A nightmare more like.

I remove the mask completely and toss it onto the ground, using my boot to shuffle ash over it. One day my body may also be reduced to ash in this very spot. Who cares?

A soft groan sounds out and I snap my flashlight to the face of one of the males as he stirs and pushes himself to sitting position. He raises a hand over his eyes to shield from the light and I lower it immediately.

"Are you hurt?" I ask, language feeling strange in my mouth, my voice sounding even stranger to my ears. It soft and low.

"I—I don't think so, where am I—Why is it so dark?" He sounds hesitant at first and then demanding. "Who are you?" He becomes too loud.

"Right now you are under Erudite." I answer his first two questions. "I'm. . ." The other two begin to stir and I pull the bag of clothing between them.

"Hello?" The other asks with an audible whimper. I hear nothing from the female.

"Underground? What do you mean I'm under Erudite? What is going on?" The edge in his voice indicates panic. "Who's there? How many are there?"

"You are faction-less now, there are three of you." I reply. Is it possible that they do not even know of their own affliction? "I'll be handing you each clothing to change into—"

"Faction-less?!" My hand clamps over his mouth instantly, and my other wraps around his head. The flashlight dropped, rolling to shine it's light in an empty corner.

"The rest of you will not follow in his example." My voice is lower, threatening. "You will accept that you are faction-less, as your only other alternative is death, in which case I _will_ leave you here. I don't have the answers to your questions so you will stop asking them, understood?"

He nods vigorously.

"You're going to help us?" The female, quieter. I sigh.

"It would _appear_ so." I say, and though I cannot see the eyes of the male I hold, I stare straight at where they ought to be, a warning to keep his voice down. His hands grip my jacket tightly and I feel his breath on my fingers. "I cannot say beyond—"

The flashlight is picked up and it's ray sweeps over me. "You're just a girl." It is the female that has it. My brow twitches and I release him. "Dauntless?"

"I was." I answer, getting back to the bag. Saying I am seemed inappropriate. She approaches and shines the light over my work as I distribute the clothing.

"I'm Wendy." She offers up as she returns the flashlight and I turn to allow them the opportunity to change out of the hospital gowns.

"Wendy?" The male asks. "It's me, John." He sounds relieved. I await the third but he does not offer a name, nor is there movement from his end and I shine the flashlight over him.

He has curled himself into a ball with his hands over his head protectively and his knees brought up to his chest, shielding his face from view.

My skin tingles all over and my insides shrivel and tighten into a painful fist. We do not have time for this.

"The sooner you get dressed the sooner you can be out of here." I say and my voice comes harsh. I cannot stop the chill that overtakes my body and I swallow as the emptiness fills me.

He doesn't respond and the others go quiet. The sound of their breathing and the drips of water and echo could be heard, as if they come from the desolate tunnels inside myself.

The one called Wendy kneels in front of him and he flinches away from her hand when she tries to tap his shoulder. My fist tightens around the flashlight.

I step over to him and wretch his hand away from his head, my grip closing around his bony wrist. "Stand." I demand while squeezing until his fingers open, shoving the flashlight into them.

I feel his violent trembling and it rattles my bones.

"In less than 30 minutes the contents of this room will be reduced to ash by flames reaching temperatures up to and above 2000°C." I state. "If your fear of _death_ is greater than your fear of the dark—"

"That isn't helping." Wendy interrupts.

I release him and bite back a scoff of disbelief. I am here, in the bowels of the city, in the sewers, treading through the ash of dead Divergent and Erudite alike. I am not helping?

"What more would you ask of me?" The vast space expands and I feel like I am not asking her. "I am _here_."

"Because someone asked you to be, right?!" She argues. "Garrett told me he would find someone to help us. What did he have to offer you? What are you getting in return?!"

I don't reply. He'd offered me nothing, but, had I not weighed the advantage of a favor owed? He said he would do anything, would I not hold him to his word?

"You could care less if we lived." She spat.

"That's true." I say without inflection, before shoving her to kneel in front of him. She curses at me and recovers on the ground to lunge at me, her nails dig into my jacket sleeve.

The flashlight glints off the blade of my knife and she sucks a sharp breath in through her teeth, releasing me. "What are you—"

"Silence." I hiss. "You." I say to John. "Get over there, next to her." I hear him shuffle and then they stand shoulder to shoulder at the edge of the light.

I kneel back down, with them in the corner of my peripherals and grab a fistful of the boys hair, pulling his head up, his eyes are screwed shut, to him I say. "Open your eyes."

I see his jaw shaking and I can almost hear the chattering of his teeth. All around me their breathing is heavy and rapid as if they are directly at my ears, breathing down my neck.

"I-I'm sorry." He says, his eyes still closed. "I don't mean to be afraid, I just—I can't help it."

"I said, open your eyes." I repeat and he does. I see the terror closing in around his pupils and hear the way the air enters and leaves his lungs, as if it is an effort for him to breathe.

I slide the knife back into my boot and release my hold on his hair, he swallows thickly and I see the tears in the corners of his eyes, as if they are only watering at the sheer strain of holding them open.

"You want someone to help you." I say. "You want someone to comfort you, console you, tell you it's going to be alright, that you have nothing to fear— But for you, there —"

Wendy moves. "Do not move _again_." I warn without taking my eyes off of his. She stills obediently, their eyes burn into my skin. "Now, he asked me to save his _sister_. He didn't say _anything_ about the two of you."

I hold up my hand, indicating that I am _not_ giving permission to speak, and I hear the sound of their mouths clamping shut, almost the grinding of teeth.

" _But."_ I pause. "You have the only light source down here." I grab his wrist and shake it so the light stripes across the walls, the fear in his body causing his fingers to clutch it with ferocity. "So, _I_ need _you_."

I keep my hand up because I don't want _them_ to talk and I try not to glance at the watch but the itch in the back of my neck forces me to. We've been here too long.

He takes a moment before nodding.

I run my hand through his hair and lower my forehead to his. His skin is hot and slick with sweat. "Close your eyes." He does, and I do too. "What is your. . .Name?"

"Michael." It shakes. He trembles.

"I fear the dark as well." I lie. "I am reminded, every time I close my eyes." Less of a lie. "Sometimes, it keeps me from sleep." Has it?

I hold my hand up again when I sense movement.

"You ask what I get in return." I sigh and with my eyes closed, with the dark pressing in from every direction, it's almost soft blonde curls between my fingers, or almost breathy orange breaths of soft laughter on a pillow next to mine. "I selfishly want a moment of peace, and silence."

There is a long pause, and the drip, drip of water. A shift of an uncomfortable foot in the ash, and I can feel my pulse, steady in my fingertips.

"I don't mean to interrupt your ' _moment_ of peace and silence'." Wendy says. "But you did mention something about 2000°C."

I move my hands to both his wrists. "Take a deep breath Micheal because I'm going to force you to stand."

After I feel his exhale I stand and tug, he stands on his own. "Get him dressed." I command the other two and they rush to help him. "I am taking you to faction-less territory."

"That's it?" John asks incredulously.

"Thats it." I answer, pulling my gloves on. "But, as of several hours ago, I believe someone will be making me an offer, one that could possibly work in your favor."

"Wait, wait, you're trading us for something?" Wendy asks.

"No, I'll be making you part of _my_ terms." I reply, I walk to the door and Michael follows wordlessly shining the light over the ground at his feet.

They crowd around me as I push the door closed, John assists me and the task is still strenuous as he is not much stronger than I. I remove the key and hand it to Wendy who pockets it.

"How does that work?" John asks. "What do you mean by terms?"

"You seem to have no problem just telling us all this information." Wendy adds and her voice is low. "You aren't afraid that we might—"

"I don't fear anything that can be killed." I answer, I take a breather and press a palm to my abdomen. If they are a part of Falen's scheme then he knows where I am without my watch. "If any of you speak, then Garrett will die."

"Oh well that's reassuring, has anyone told you that you are a _very_ intense, ominous, passive aggressive. . ."

"In simpler words, yes." I answer, taking the lead. They follow behind closely and the light shines between my feet at every step.

Instead of the way I came, I circle around to the other end of the large rectangular pool in the middle of the cavernous room and lower myself to the ledge above the water, ducking into a tunnel.

I press my hands to the stone above and at my side as I crouch. "We will follow this tunnel and exit at the canal south of Erudite." I say over my shoulder.

"You mentioned that you 'were' a Dauntless, are you faction-less?" John asks.

"Technically, I am committing faction treason." I reply, the edge in my tone sharp.

"Then you'll be staying with us?" Wendy asks from way in back.

"It depends." I don't elaborate.

"It depends on this _person_ , who you assume wants something from you, enough for you to to be able to offer up terms?" John pieces together.

"Yes." I answer.

"You don't sound like a Dauntless." John says and it sounds accusing. "I've never seen you in Erudite and you seem to know a lot about the underground, _I_ didn't even know about this."

I press my lips into a hard line.

"Why does Jeanine want us dead?" Michael asks, his voice is hardly above a whisper.

"Because she is a psychotic bitch." Wendy hisses and again I wonder if they even know that they are Divergent. I don't bring it up. "And she has my brother wrapped around her finger, everyone else eating from the palm of her hand and she can do whatever she wants."

We continue in silence and I believe they are contemplating what awaits them or possibly what they are being forced to leave behind.

The air grows colder and dank as the ground begins to stray at a slight incline, I move slower, sliding my boots along the uneven stone floor.

I hear a slip of a boot and the splash of water followed by a disgusted groan. "My legs are cramping." John complains. I can feel a similar burn in my legs and a tight ache in my stomach.

My body is covered in a thin sheen of sweat and my layers feel constricting. We come to an intersection and I pause, Michael bumps into me and mumbles and apology.

I turn right after listening for a solid minute to the sounds of running water and at the flow break. Within a mile the roar of falling water fills the tunnel, deafening to my we near it's end.

Exiting first into the cold, I straighten and stretch as I sidestep along the lightly snow covered ledge, the steep fall into the canal, similar to the chasm, and where the water flows there is a break in the thin layer of ice.

Michael appears after me and I feel his fingers wrap around my arm. They create a rope, John clutching Michael and Wendy with her hand untwined with John's.

I head in the opposite direction of where the canal will take us to Candor and we reach the ladder. I move past it and have them climb first.

At the top they wait on the street glancing in all directions. I pull my scarf over my nose and mouth. "Stay close to the buildings. Dauntless patrol and circle the area."

The wind begins to blow now, scattering the freshly fallen snow and obscuring our footprints. The moon disappears as clouds creep in heavy and low.

I check my watch often and though I know Eric would not possibly track me himself I begin to wonder at the possibility that he would send someone else.

The hairs at the back of my neck raise and I scan often. John and Michael start dragging behind and as Wendy and I round the corner of a building I have to jerk her back around.

At the end of the road is a truck. Wendy's eyes go wide and she covers her mouth with a hand. My first thought is that they could not have seen us but a loud voice indicates I am wrong.

"We know you're out there. Come out with your hands up." It is a voice I do not recognize. I look around Wendy pressed against the building at John and Michael who look between each other frantically and I gesture for them to head back.

"Circle the building, find a way inside and wait for me." I tell Wendy. She nods and they disappear around the corner.

I hear the boots in synchronization over the snow and the slow creep of a vehicle. In less than a second two Dauntless round the corner their guns up and I move away from the building with my hands up.

The first one, skittish jumps and I drop flat on the ground as his gun goes off and a shot is fired.

I stay flat on the ground and listen to their frantic voices my cheek, bitten by the snow and I feel the wetness seeping into my clothes.

"Fuck, fuck, did I hit em?" A voice asks. "Oh man, oh man, it just—It just went off."

"Calm down, who cares? It's after curfew and it was probably faction-less." I faintly recognize this second voice and I hear them come closer.

I deliberate the odds of disarming one, or possibly getting back up and feigning an excuse but should they report me. . .I slide my gloves off and tuck them into my jacket slowly.

"Hey, are you alright?" One of them pokes the back of my hood with the barrel of their gun. He kneels and his knee touches my arm, I feel hands grip my other shoulder and pull as if he's going to roll me over.

The gun falls to his side and brushes the ground. When I'm on my back he leans in and I can smell alcohol on his breath, he tugs my scarf down.

"Oh my god I think it's—" He starts to say, I open my eyes and grab his gun still slung around his back, shoving the barrel under his chin. My hand gripping him by the back of the neck.

His friend jumps back and aims his gun at us but then lowers it. "What the fuck—Genesis? You scared the shit out of us!"

It's Paul, I didn't realize he still had to work while undergoing leadership training.

I remove my finger from the trigger and release his friend, who falls back seemingly dazed.

"What the fuck are you doing out here? It's way past curfew." Paul says and I sit up looking over my shoulder to the truck to identify the driver.

His friend breathes heavily. "I almost shit my pants man." He says on his hands and knees, his head near the ground. I tell myself I would not have shot him.

"I was playing dare." I answer and Paul slides a hand under my arm to haul me off the ground. I dust the snow off me.

"Dare? Who the fuck dared you to come all the way out here? The train isn't even running." Paul ignores his friend, the truck inches closer. "Are you hurt? Did he hit you?"

"I'm fine." I say. "But, I need your clothes." His expression warps into an amused but bewildered mixture as if he thinks I'm joking but is unsure. "My dare—"

"You must be totally drunk." He laughs, a loud throaty noise. "Alright, Gav, strip." He commands waving his hand in the air.

"Are you serious?" He asks. "It's freezing out! Tell fucking Merc to strip."

"Don't be a wuss." I hear from the truck. "Strip tease for the girl." A clap. Paul, Gav and Merc on Erudite south patrol. I should memorize the new routes.

"You've got to be kidding me." Gav complains, rising off the ground but I hear a zipper and I turn back to Paul he tilts his head and scrutinizes me, his hands on his hips.

"You almost shot her, numb nuts." Paul says but he keeps his gaze locked with mine. "We'll give you a ride back to Dauntless. . ." He trails off before putting an arm around my shoulders.

I let him lead me a few steps away from the others and I look to the ground, using my peripherals to scan the buildings for movement. None.

"Does Max or Falen know you're out here?" He asks lowly. I shake my head no. "Does Eric?" I answer with a shrug. "Do you. . .Need anything else?"

I raise my brow at him. "No, but I would appreciate if you and the rest of your squad didn't mention this to _anyone_. I intend to take the first train back to Dauntless."

He looks thoughtful and then nods slowly. "I take it you need the clothes because you smell like—" He scrunches his nose but smiles warmly and squeezes my arm. "No worries, I've got you covered." I watch his eyes flick behind me and squint.

"Does her majesty need my boxers too?" Gav calls and Paul turns us back around with barking laugh that shakes me.

"Naw, keep those on, no one wants to see that, but switch with Merc." He orders. "Before your balls drop off." He grabs the bundle of clothing, and Gav sprints to the truck door. "You be careful out here, not everyone is. . .friendly—" He pushes them into my arms. "Alright guys, we'll circle up and cover east, then check-in with Derek."

"She's not coming with us?" Merc asks as he stands on the step up of the truck with his arm linked around the bars on the roof.

"She's got a dare to finish." Paul answers with a shrug before jogging. I step off the road as the truck moves down it and he jumps onto the other side. They all wave.

I wait until the truck is out of sight before circling the block with my eyes to the windows. A light flicks on and off, at the end of the road through a broken window and I break into a jog.

When I reach the building I check the door. Nailed shut. I round the side and check each window. All nailed and boarded shut. I walk to the back down an alley and my feet halt.

The hairs on my body raise and a ripple crawls down my spine.

I didn't hear him approach but I can smell him now, the scent of cigarettes, something of aftershave and I don't bother to turn, I just know that he is behind me.

"I'm being tracked." I say throwing my hood off of my head. I pull the scarf away from my neck and throat.

"We know." Falen answers, his voice gravelly. I hear more boots, less silent than his.

And then a hand clamps down on my shoulder, I grab it and twist, pulling it towards me, I drive my boot into the back of his knee and curl my hand around his neck.

Only it's not Falen. He leans against the building at the mouth of the alley. I release the faction-less boy and shove him forward.

Falen waves two fingers and suddenly I am grabbed from the sides. A hand grips my hair tilting my head forward so my chin snaps to my chest and I'm driven to my knees.

"Gentle." He hisses acrimoniously.

I hear a click and an electrical hum, it buzzes near my ear and I loosen every muscle in my body, closing my eyes, breathing out slowly. I'd only seen a taser once.

The shock rails through my spine and I convulse as electricity shears through every nerve in my body, contracting with needle bursts from my veins through my skin.

My vision went from bursts of colorful sparklers and fireworks, to a grainy whiteout. I fall forward but I don't hit the ground.

* * *

I pry my eyes open, my head rolling to the side. I feel arms around my waist, and my own arms around shoulders. The tip of my boots catch and run over notches in the ground.

Wood. Floorboards. They creak under their shoes like they could splinter under our weight.

"I got her." A male. "We need to get her awake though, can you get me the—"

"I'm awake." I mumble, my mouth unable to form the words. I adjust my feet to plant the bottom of my boots to the ground. A hand moves to my stomach as I fall forward.

A short laugh. "Perfect." A hand pinches my cheeks between two fingers. "Go get the others." I'm lowered onto a makeshift sofa and I hear a door slam.

My body tilts sideways until hands grip my shoulder and straighten me.

"Drink." My chin is tilted up and a cup is brought to my lips. Liquid drenches my thick tongue and flows down my throat, I swallow and sputter as a cough rises.

I lick my dry lips and push the mans hand away. I blink several times to dispel the spots swimming in my vision until I can focus.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" He asks, his voice is deep. He holds a middle finger up, pointed at me, not 2 inches from my face.

"One." I answer through gritted teeth, flexing my fingers by curling them into fists.

He laughs loud and uncontrollably. "If looks could kill." The man I predict is in his twenties, he has a short scraggly beard covering the lower half of his face and the same disheveled hair, shaven on one side.

A large scar stretching from the corner of his eye along his head. His eyes a deep brown. He looks Dauntless, but I've never met him.

"My name is Kirk." He says holding a hand out for me to shake. He frowns a bit and let's his hand drop. "I'm pretty sure I don't need to tell you that you're in no-mans land."

I press the back of my hand to my overheated forehead, my fingers still tingly and numb but cold. I'm unsure how long after he leaves the room that I notice I am alone.

The room is spacious, and for the most part wooden. The ceiling is high with beams across them and for light there are lanterns only 2 but they are spread to cast flickering candle light across everything.

I lay my head back and then sit up, but then I rest back again. Impatience grates at me. My boot tapping rapidly until my leg bounces. I shrug out of my jacket, noticing my scarf and gloves are gone.

Then I hear voices. Rising and falling through the walls.

The voices drew closer until I could make out several distinct speakers involved in a heated discussion, a female and male, though I couldn't quite make out the words.

Whatever the voices were talking about, someone had the final word and the conversation ended. The shuffling sound of several pairs of feet replaced the talking and trundled down the hallway, nearer and nearer.

I sit straight, as if prepared to be called upon and the door opens.

A middle-aged woman walks in. She has curly black hair and olive skin. Her features are stern, so angular, but something about her is unsettling.

I stare at her hooked nose, a little too big on her face, her strong jaw, distinct chin, and her spare upper lip as it curls up in a terse smile.

Falen walks in behind her and my eyes are drawn to him until the woman speaks.

"Welcome to faction-less, Genesis." She says and I realize who she resembles. "I am Evelyn Johnson-Eaton, and I have heard a _lot_ about you."

* * *

Peter Pan reference if anyone caught it.


	23. Something Else

We are in a faction-less storehouse or warehouse for all it matters, and the faction-less, who are supposedly scattered, isolated, and without community, are _together_ inside it.

Together, like a _faction_.

They don't fight one another or avoid one another. I had assumed they would be similar to the scavengers I come across on the borders of factions. One or two here and there, a small group, maybe a handful or so. Nothing like this. I know what I expected of them and I was prepared to be wrong, but I am still surprised.

More than surprised. Maybe, a little mortified.

An alarming number of people sit, huddled together, next to rolls of bedding or makeshift housing, prying open cans of food, sipping from bottles or pails of melting snow, warming themselves at controlled bonfires.

I can hear their conversations and even laughter permeating the wintry air. Conversations which topics I can't begin to imagine.

What have they to converse about?

There is an unpleasant scent. Stale body odor possibly, and the musty warehouse mixed in with the cooking of food and the burning of wood and garbage.

But, what is the most alarming to me is the sight of _children_ , weaving between the groups of adults and lean-tos, not confined to a particular color of clothing— _faction-less_ children. My renewed calm gives way to a deep silence inside and I clench my fists with bloodless knuckles as Kirk shoves me forward down the hall.

"This is what I wanted you to see." Kirk says. "Doesn't look like much _yet_ , does it?"

There are recognizable emotions like pity, and rage but, mainly exhaustion. I'm finding it hard to muster that which I have had very little of for anything, especially for faction-less even given _my_ circumstances but, Abnegation. . .That is a different issue altogether. One that I find myself reluctant to acknowledge.

Abnegation have strict rules, they control the government, they're required to uphold our system, with their faction specific procedures on handling of faction-less and to-be faction-less to _prevent_ such an occurrence.

Why have they let this happen?

* * *

"You cling to your ideals and all the comfortable teachings you grew up with, that the system is perfect, that everyone is doing their part, but Abnegation is many things, selfless, is _not_ one of them." Evelyn says, she crosses her arms and stares me down. "They hide secrets, they lie, they act for selfish gain. The power that was given to them, in the belief that they—"

"Abnegation is the _only_ faction with the initiative to _aid_ you, Dauntless repress you to the point of hunting you, and make examples out of those deaths. Erudite and Candor pretend you don't even exist. As for Amity passed the walls, faction-less basically don't exist—You can't expect me to believe _you_ want _another_ faction in charge of the government."

"Not with the way they are now, no." Kirk admits with a complacent shrug before jerking his head towards a door. "But you assume the factions can't change. Look around, they have to and they will. It's _inevitable._ We've been assured that Dauntless can do that."

Two armed faction-less enter unannounced, and both take seats at a rectangular table but no one else bats an eyelash in their direction. One is a young male with short black hair and the other is a female but her features are severe, her hair is shorter than the males, cut close to her scalp and she has a lazy eye.

"How is it to be effected?" I ask, turning to Evelyn, ignoring the audience. What could the faction-less even do about it? I'm not finding their force to be overly impressive and anything I've learned of them only furthers my confusion.

"Jeanine Matthews." Kirk answers in her stead, clasping his hands in front of him the barest hint of a smile twitches at the tip of his lips and Evelyn simply nods.

I scoff, unable to hold back my utter disbelief. For a perverse moment, I think they are joking and then I realize, they are _not_.

Jeanine _is_ already making her moves against Abnegation, with the intention of overthrowing the government and placing Erudite in power.

But, even I know that would not bode well for the faction-less, not at all, so, their _alternative_?

Dauntless. _Falen_.

At least, with whatever " _change_ " he promised, to make the option of Dauntless government seem more appealing to them.

They want to ride Jeanine's coattails, possibly help her along through their connection to Abnegation, what with Evelyn having been the wife of an Abnegation councilman and to now, their connection to Dauntless and they must _also_ have a connection. . .

"Jeanine knows how to effectively use _knowledge_ as artillery, and so do we." Evelyn says, putting word to my thoughts. "We can get the information she needs through our connection to Abnegation, to her, through. . .Different, inconspicuous means and she can wield it against them."

Falen clears his throat and captures my attention. "I hope that you, as a reasonable individual, can see that we both have something to gain from being in a mutually cooperative. . .Partnership, aside from that of the one I've established with the faction-less."

"How so?" I ask flatly. My nails tap and scrape the armrest of the wooden chair, catching splinters that dig into my skin. It's not everyday someone holds me at gun point and then goes out of their way to appeal to my 'better interests'.

I'm reminded of the phrase; the enemy of my enemy is my ally. They need not convince me, I didn't let them bring me here for nothing. Despite everything, I came willingly. Perhaps their 'courtesy' is in light of that, if they even recognize _my_ courtesy.

Falen places his elbows on the table, and twists his fingers together. "This could be the change _you've_ been waiting for." He says lowly. "These are violent times, cruel times, and I know that no one hates it more than _you_."

It's literally as if he's read off some psychoanalysis that Eric made in a report to him that explains some mundane aspect of my life, or my habits. I feel the violence rising like hot bile up my throat and I scoff, shifting in my chair to sit upright and rigid.

"Cruel and violent times, Falen? _We_ are the ones who _made_ them so." I answer with little inflection, but the words and it's meaning deflate some of my anger.

I want to ask Falen. If he used his son to buy his way here. Let him run rampant through faction-less. Make them desperate enough, then make a deal with them and take him out, give them guns so he can point them at whomever he desires. Maybe it was not a vote made by a father in the attempt to save a son.

Then there's Evelyn whom I'd ask of Four. Tobias. Her _son_. Left alone to face what she was too weak to. Thinking his mother was dead for years. Had she gone to see him? Would he be _'happy_ ' to see her? Having gotten over her death, only to find that she had not died, simply, _ran away_ and left him _alone_ all those years.

I am no more virtuous than them, and I realize, though I would ask to elicit a rise, I care not for their honest response, or in how they would defend themselves. I assume that is why they thought to include me, assuming that I would also entertain their basest sentimentality, that somehow we could be anything other than what we are, that we could _change_.

I don't ask and I know nothing about Kirk, save for the fact that he seems to assume authority over everything, even over seniority that Evelyn would have and the power that Falen has. He must be something to these faction-less, or maybe the tool Evelyn and Falen would use.

I can't deny, we are individuals to which the end of something justifies the means of achieving it, this allows us to communicate, our similar natures, that allows us to sit in such mutual company. The end of violent and cruel times, well, that would be achieved by the end of _us_.

I lean back. "What will be done about the current leaders?"

"Off the top of my head, I'd say only a few will need to be replaced, but once Dauntless is head of the government the other factions will more than likely accept without argument." Evelyn says but her tone would make it seem that she is glad I asked.

It shows that I am at least interested. If not, _considering_.

"And Jeanine?" I ask without inflection.

"Imprisonment or also replacement." She says immediately. "Despite what you think." She says smoothly tilting her head to the side, her eyes are black pits and I see the vein in her neck. "We'd like to accomplish this with as little _unnecessary_ death as possible."

"Then you do not deny that there is necessary death?" I ask petulantly.

She sighs heavily as though dealing with a child unwilling to accept a bedtime. Constantly pestering for an extra 5 minutes.

"Nature is unsentimental, death is built in. People will die." Falen replies solemnly. "As they always do."

I shrug, though his response was expected, I feel somewhat able to acquiesce due to the honesty. "Tell me then, what it is that you want _me_ to do."

"Well first of all, we don't want you to kill anyone, you cannot kill anyone." Falen says and he stands, holding his hand up to the others to remain seated. "And I know that you don't want to kill anyone."

I raise my brow at him. _Want_ has nothing to do with it.

"Technically we don't even fucking need _you_." Says the lazy eyed faction-less, calling attention to her presence in the room. "We have a deal already made with an Erudite. We house whoever he sends our way and he cooperates with us."

I frown but now I understand why they haven't just killed me yet. They _can't_ , though they might rather.

The realization sits strangely but I'd noticed they looked displeased and mistrusting, I assumed it was simply because of Dauntless' reputation in regards to them. But I now know it is because they are at an _impasse_ , this is why they are trying to convince me, _appeal_ to me. It's because they cannot kill me without risking some fallout with someone close to Jeanine.

They cannot risk loosing their connection to Erudite.

"Garrett is important, because of his connection and standing within Erudite. You have become. . .Ancillary to that end." Kirk explains but he gives the lazy eyed girl a disproving look. Perhaps I wasn't meant to know this detail. "We've had some. . .Disagreements regarding how to approach the issue of your inv—"

"We only need one person to keep that Erudite's balls in a vice and guess what? We have _two_." The faction-less boy says. "And right now you—"

"Are more _accessible_ than Garrett is." Evelyn interrupts, as though that is the deciding factor, the end and answer to the argument, it is definitely not the direction that the faction-less boy was headed.

I settle and cross my arms, tapping my fingers along my elbows and wait, though I suddenly realize they're waiting for me. I gesture for _them_ to continue, this new information continues to churn around in my head and gut, I've nothing to say on it. Not to them.

"We've built ourselves a little haven here." Kirk explains as if trying to lessen the tension or possibly explain the hostility. "We do our best to protect what and who we've got here from _other_ Faction-less and—

"And the likes of _you_." The faction-less boy adds. "And every other Dauntless mutt."

Kirk motions for the two other Faction-less to leave the room, clearly displeased with them, they stand, throwing me looks of animosity, of which I am not unused to and I only return their looks with disinterest.

There is a brief silence after the door is shut to their departure and I wonder why they were even present to begin with. Possibly for them to familiarize themselves with my appearance?

"You being alive is enough to say that Jeanine wants something from you. Especially now that you've shown interest in Erudite, she will want you to choose Erudite." Falen says, the conversation picking back up on a note that I was unprepared for. "You're in an advantageous position in terms of her favor because of how you could potentially benefit her. . .Thus why they've been focusing on you, and will potentially continue to focus on you."

I'd argue if he weren't right, instead I feel myself nod in agreement. He made me into a distraction and put me in a position of advantage to them.

"I know Coulter implored you to report back to him, and you will. What we give you. The information I provided for you previously should give you some direction to how this will go." Falen says and he is about to continue when I interrupt him, I cannot be one of their 'inconspicuous' means of delivering information.

"You do not have enough to endow me for those services." I sigh. They obviously don't know _Eric_ and when it comes to him, it would seem far easier to kill him than to fool him. "Garrett may have made terms but _I'm_ not inclined to follow by them. At most I will endeavor to _minimize_ my involvement and stay out of your way. That is how I will 'cooperate'."

They look as though they would argue with me but, for me to remain neutral and impassive would be in their best interests. Silence is my forte.

"If I'm in an advantageous position with Jeanine and Erudite then the opposite could be said as well, any suspicious behavior on my part would call attention." I say dropping my cheek into a palm. "Not the kind you would have me generate if I am to 'be accessible' to both faction-less and Garrett."

Evelyn looks pleased, that I had taken her hint, which I assume is for me to play messenger. Maybe she never wanted me to really get involved, maybe Falen was _supposed_ to kill me. I assume it's all part of their scheme, or his. Or even Garrett's.

Falen taps his fingers along the table, his expression is flat. "We'll be having a conference this evening, which will render their investigations and allegations against me void and Eric will have no choice but to desist or find a new route, in which case I assume he will implore you to—"

"I'm on probation." I remind. "Probation that I've just violated." Falen's expression changes with the barest hint of relief and humor. "I'll not be likely to do it again."

Kirk clears his throat. "30 minutes."

Falen nods and checks his watch. "I'll be going then. . .Genesis, Evelyn." He tilts his head and exits without another word and I assume he is going back to Dauntless.

"Come." Kirk says grabbing me by the arm and forcing me to my feet. Evelyn follows as he pulls me towards the far end of the room. "I'll leave her to you."

Evelyn nod's before tossing the clothing I had gotten from Gav over the partition. It smells like cigarettes and spice. A welcome scent in comparison. She begins explaining a method of communication using faction-less codes on billboards, colors, numbers, quite impressive.

"Besides that, every message given to a faction-less will make its way to me." She says as I change behind the dressing screen.

I would wonder why it wouldn't be taken directly by Kirk, who seems to be in charge but I don't ask, instead I smooth my hair down into a tight pony tail before walking around the partition with my old clothing and Evelyn wraps a bony hand around my wrist as I begin shrugging my jacket on.

"There is something else. . ."

* * *

When I step into my apartment and flick the light on it's as though everything sharpens into focus and the air is suddenly alive with the sound of emptiness. Then it hits me with full force: Conversations from last night and this morning spin around me in the silence, piercing against my skin and boring into my skull.

I press my palms into my eyes and bend over, a wave of nausea rising in my throat so I cover my mouth with my arm and slowly exhale as I head to the bathroom.

But I stop. The door is ajar, the light inside is on. I push it lightly and it swings open.

"Jackie?" My voice has no substance, as if it's less than air.

I stare at her as she sits limply against the wall near the toilet, between it and the shower, barely bothering to look up. Her head rolls on her neck, her hands slack in her lap. "Jackie," I say again. Firmer.

She looks up at me, her eyes hollow and unfocused. She raises a hand as if reaching out and that's when I see the blood trailing down her wrist and dripping from her fingers. It is like the hollow echo of drips in a tunnel, though there is no sound.

I feel as if I've somehow woken up in the middle of the night in a strange place and can't orient myself, the shock pushing in like thick darkness. Unfamiliar, slow and un-moving, time becomes suspended in my breaths.

Her lips waver a bit before turning into a smile, trembling around the edges. "Gene." she says, her voice soft, weak.

My name tears me from the trance; I shake my head and slide to her on the ground, shrugging out of my jacket and I grab her cheeks, forcing her to look at me. Her eyelids flutter before drooping closed, and I assess her condition.

The cuts on her forearms are jagged, wide and raw. They've begun to clot, the blood thick and pooling on the flat gray tile around her, my knees smearing streaks near her thighs. Her pulse is a flutter, as if only accelerated, awakened, by my presence.

"Sorry." She murmurs, her lips barely moving, as if she's sorry about my bathroom. As if she's merely apologizing for the mess she's made.

I look at all the blood, staining my skin, squeezing her wrists tighter in my fingers.

* * *

Max and Falen leave the infirmary together after conducting a routine questioning. Most of which Jackie spent telling them that _I_ had not hurt her.

I can smell her blood on my hands, feel it drying and cracking on my skin and under my nails. It's like a metallic sheen on the back of my tongue and I can taste it.

"You went to faction-less." Jackie says. It comes as a statement, not a question. "But, you came back. . ."

I look at her carefully, wondering how she would even know, or come to that. I can't figure out what emotion's are in her voice, but her fingers clutch the white sheets at her sides. Her arms bandaged, an IV protruding from the back of her hand.

She rolls her head over the pillow until she's facing me. Her expression is somber and serious but her eyes glassy. "Do you hate me?" Her voice breaks and her lip quivers. Immediately I open my mouth to tell her _no_ but I swallow it down and allow myself this contemplation.

Do I hate her?

I could not, but I can find no pity either, or any opposite emotion. For, is it not the weak that I have become this way? Cold, hard and hollow. This malignancy has grown from the inside. This malevolent belief that they _need_ me, that I am what I am _for_ them, that I do what I do _for_ them.

My breath comes out slow and steady, each inhalation is like ice, it's sharpness stinging my lungs and I turn my face away to stare at the cracks that spider web across the ground so that she may not see my distress.

"I'm sorry, okay?" She says.

"For what?" Again with an apology, it twists my gut, spoiling each swallow I take.

She breathes in deep, her fingers tightening around the edge of her sheet till her knuckles glow white. "I'm sorry I had such an easy life growing up when you didn't."

I'm about to interrupt her but she shakes her head. "I'm sorry I'm not like you or Kat, I'm sorry that you guys can't—Couldn't rely on me, or _confide_ in me because I'm weak. . .I'm sorry that. . .I'm sorry that you want to leave too. . .I'm sorry that I—That I need you, and I don't want you to leave, that I can't handle if you left me too. I love you, you're my best friend."

Her words are so infused with emotion that I cross my arms over my chest at the naked, selfish, vulnerability of it. It twists and scrapes inside me to the point of discomfort.

I ache.

"I want to mean something to you." She lowers her eyes as if she's afraid of how I'll respond. "Enough for you to stay. . .I don't want to be left alone."

My muscles are so exhausted they shake, trying to wring out what little warmth they can. I finally manage a sigh and take her hand in mine, not knowing the exact response that would be appropriate. I cannot give her absolution, she should not feel the need to ask of it from me of all people.

The relief on her face is immediate, though she could never know the extent of what she's asked, how could I form an answer? Even if I did would she understand? She squeezes my fingers, still crusted with her blood and I realize how her skin feels cold, even to me.

Just like that the anger and disappointment that had been coursing through me is suddenly gone, leaving me feeling defeated and eager to leave her company, and clean myself up, better myself. "I have work to attend to, I'll come check back in several hours. . ." I start preparing myself.

Jackie's eye widen and she squeezes tighter. "I think you should go uhm. . . Eric, he was. . .Really worried about you last night too. . . He should know that you're back."

* * *

"You violated the terms of your probation." Max says. He leans forward and drums his fingers against his desk. "But. . .You did so with justified reasoning, and it's mainly _our_ fault for not briefing you on Falen's investigation into Faction-less activity. . .Therefore—"

"We'll be lenient, after all it's understandable that you should be alerted by suspicious activities and feel the need to act on behalf of your faction and it's safety." Jeanine finishes, there is a sort of respect in her voice and I wonder if it is because she knows Eric encouraged it.

What she says makes my heart pound slower, as if my blood's become too thick to move through my veins. Sharp words sit on the edge of my tongue, though not as sharp as my teeth in it. Such a day this turned out to be.

She considers me a moment before asking. "Did you uncover anything?"

I don't bother looking to Falen who's chest stills as if he's holding his breath. He leans against Max's desk, behind the monitor that displays Jeanine. His hands curled around the edge of it, one foot crossed over the other. He looks relaxed but I could tell the moment I entered the room, by the tension in his shoulders and the muscles in his jaw, that he's just trying to _appear_ calm.

"Yes, but nothing Falen would have missed." I answer before yawning into the sleeve of my jacket. My skin feels flushed, like a fever.

Jeanine's face falls a little as if she was expecting a different answer. "Your tracker's signal was interrupted, and went offline at—"

"I'd not known." I answer with a shrug. "I did fall into the river, however." I lie easily, though I don't know to what effect temperature would have on the device, it seemed a good guess.

Max's explodes with laughter, and Falen cracks a smile, relaxing visibly from the corner of my eye. I know that Gav cannot keep quiet about his loss of clothing, and I am still wearing the loose and baggy garments.

"Well, we will have to have it replaced then." Jeanine says simply with a frown, looking down from the monitor to the contents on her desk, I hear the shifting of papers but before she can question me further Max stands, and straightens his jacket.

"That's all Gene, you're dismissed for now. . .You're required again at 6 this evening, we've got a lot to cover." He pauses, a wide grin breaking over his face. "Besides, you look like you could use a good shower before then."

* * *

Eric steps into the bathroom and immediately the space feels too small. Too tight and too cramped. There's only one exit and his bulk blocks it.

He stares at me from the doorway, tilting his head to the side, his hands clasped patiently in front of him but I can see the way his knuckles stretch and glow white. " _Gene_." My name comes sharply as if somehow spoken through only his teeth.

" _Eric_." I reply immediately, standing to the sink to pour out the murky brown water and bleach from the bucket I'd been using to clean. The chemical smell burns my throat with every inhalation, but it does little to mask the rawness and lingering taste of bile in my mouth.

"It's nearly noon." He says with a disappointed tsk sound, taking a step behind me. I try not to flinch at his nearness as his fingers brush the side of my waist. "You were expected this _morning_." His fingers curl slowly around my hip, barely reaching the edge of my fresh bandage.

The muscles along my neck and back ripple and I grab the edges of the bucket to keep my hands from shaking. " _Something_ came up." Obviously _he_ would know.

He leans in too close, enough for me to smell his breath through his smile and my hands jerk, sloshing water over the counter and onto the floor at our boots. Before I can react he grabs a towel and takes my arm in his, drying it. Patting my wrist down to my elbow. His eyes a dark liquid gray.

I try not to blink; I try not to show any reaction at all even though my fingers begin to tingle and my blood seems to hum with anger, at him and at myself. At him for making me recognize this gap inside me that I could have possibly lived and died without noticing and. . .May possibly never be filled with anything other than darkness.

For forcing me to realize what I am and what I am not.

He tosses the towel back to the counter and leans on it, his arm almost circling me. He's too close, there's not enough space and I can't breathe, can't even think while trying to control the violence writhing in my gut. A constant scratching, gnawing and tearing.

His chest presses against my shoulder, his mouth almost to my ear.

The water begins to fill the bucket and overflow into the sink so I cut the faucet off, pouring some out, trying to appear calm and deliberate as he trails his fingers up my spine. But when he grips my hair in a fist behind my neck and yanks my head back I clench my teeth and scowl, clutching the edge of the counter.

"When I tell you to do something I expect you to to do it, when I tell you to be somewhere, I expect you to be there." I can hear the threat in his voice as it brushes the skin of my cheek. "Otherwise why would I even say anything in the first fucking place?"

I turn my head away, and his hand twists my hair to force my face back to his as he presses his nose against my jaw. When I open my mouth to argue he ' _shushes_ ' me.

"Genie, I'm in a bad mood, let's not make it worse." He says tilting my head so that my ear and neck are under his gaze. "I have a feeling it will darken progressively today, and whatever bothers me, I assure you, will come to bite _you_ in the ass."

I clench my jaw so hard my teeth could break and I feel each exhale of his breath as his lips flutter along my hairline, tracing the curve of my ear, slowly till he reaches the tracker, grazing his lips over it.

Then he releases my hair and cups the back of my neck, pausing for a moment with his mouth over mine, his breath moist on my face and the light gleaming in his eyes. The anger and resentment becomes too much to contain, my mind practically screams at me for aggression.

I place my hand on the arm he has rested on the counter, feeling his muscle tense beneath my touch, eager to claw into them and I press my lips into his with force. Dark spots explode behind my eyelids and I clutch his jacket with ferocity, letting it envelope my senses.

He's stunned at first, there is a second before his head tilts to the side and he pushes hard against my mouth, his fingers digging into my scalp and his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me closer. Tighter. Crushing me.

Pure burning heat radiates off him when he opens his mouth as if to devour me and he is met by my own teeth and tongue. Suddenly there's such urgency—such a hunger—born of a need to release this violence.

 _Without_ killing him.

* * *

The cold water stings every inch of my burning skin, and I tilt my face up against the spray of the shower head. The tile beneath my feet is smooth but uneven, in comparison to the tile beneath the palm of my hand that's pressed against the wall.

I blink against the frigid drops that blind my eyes and stream down my cheeks, running over my body. Just a physical form made up of a skeleton, sewn up with muscle, sinew, nerves and flesh over each bone, that creates our existence and takes up space in the world.

Such an impact just existing can make, and then we move, breathe, see, touch, feel and the world goes to shit as a result.

I feel slightly uncomfortable and raw inside. My wound a dull pain that I feel with every pulse. My wrists are bruising and tender and my throat is in the same condition. There are bruises forming on bruises, scrapes on scars, and I would feel them all as if they were festering with infection.

The shower is meant for one person and Eric takes up most of it as he works his fingers lazily through my hair, lathering shampoo into my scalp with slow circular movements. I wash it all out, and keep the soap from getting into my face when he works on his own, keeping the conversation alive with little assistance from me.

"The old man is smart, I'll give him that." He complains. "There is no substantial evidence, and he can use 'investigating and reassessing faction-less threat' as a defense against _any_ allegations brought against him concerning his involvement with them. . ."

I sigh exasperatedly before turning to face him, he leans in and moves my arms around his neck, his skin is smooth but frigid and wet from the water and I feel his hands roaming the expanse of my equally cold flesh once again.

"What?" He asks with humor in lieu of my sigh, his mood, improved, I would say. "Want me to talk about something else?" His hand unwinds the soaked bandage from around my torso and it falls with a wet slap on the shower ground.

I would think of something else today. Something other than the decisions I've made, the consequences, and of what is yet to come.

"If you are capable." I answer before pressing my mouth to his. If I myself am capable.

He mumbles incoherently between my lips as he parts my thighs with a hand, his fingers push through and he lowers himself to attach his lips to my breast, circling and flicking a nipple with his tongue, hardened by the coldness of the water and his stimulation.

Katherine had always said that men can be easily pacified, but I'm still not sure if that applies to Eric. It _would_ be far easier to kill him, even now he must suspect me of duplicity and allowing the idea that I could fool him. Such is the nature of his games, that place him a step ahead, but only far enough to think reachable.

My hands clutch his hair, silky between my fingers as he pushes his into my depths, driving them all the way before pulling them out only to circle and enter again. I tilt my head back and focus on the droplets of condensation on the ceiling of the shower until I'm unable to see them.

His other arm reaches around to the small of my back and he forces me against the tiled wall. The edges of the squares scrape into my skin.

He bites down hard, and I gasp as his teeth pinch almost enough to cut and he licks and sucks before trailing bites down my chest, removing his hand to pin me harder against the wall, his hands now grasping my thighs, holding my legs up as he pushes himself long and thick into me.

I close my eyes, my first gasp is agonized, he stretches and burns like the reopening of a wound as he moves in long, hard strokes and buries his face into my neck, sinking his fingers into my skin. I grasp his shoulder and hair with my nails.

He stops for a brief moment and shifts his arms under my knees to wrap his hands behind my back, pushing my shoulders into the wall to drive harder, relentlessly forcing air from my lungs in more short shallow breaths with uninhibited force over and over and over.

All thoughts effectively lost.

* * *

The muscles in his back ripple under my nails as he digs his fingers into the headboard of the bed. It creaks and protests under his weight as he pushes me into the mattress with his hips. The metallic scrape of the bed against concrete barely heard under pants and gasps.

I will him to go harder, dragging my nails down his spine, digging them into the soft flesh of his hips, my back arching up into him.

He complies instantly, with a sharp breath, his eyes shut tightly and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. My hands are yanked from him and he removes himself, forcing me to turn over onto my knees, my hands now take the place of his on the headboard.

When he thrusts inside in one savage motion, my entire body tenses although I was prepared for it, anticipating it. His hand slides from my hip, up my back, flat spread against my skin and curls around my throat, his fingers tightening against my windpipe but not enough to cut off air, just to hold me in place as he moves in a slow grueling pace.

He digs his nails into my flesh of my hip as he pumps harder and faster. His breathing becomes ragged and his hand closes tighter around my neck, unconsciously, I think, until he finally uses both hands to hold my hips.

I release the headboard and grasp a pillow to bite into to stifle my gasps as he starts pounding into me, hard and fast.

Pressure builds inside me with every thrust, and when he slides a hand around my body and furiously circles my heat with his fingers my body wound so tightly I can hardly handle it. "Let go Gene." He almost sounds pleading.

I gasp agonized when my body releases all the tension he generated and I feel him pulsing heat within me. He falls onto his side and pulls me against him, wrapping his arms around me so my head rests on his arm near his shoulder, our breathing rapid and speaking impossible yet.

His fingers brush the hair from my neck to place his lips at my cheek, I feel each exhale of his breath as his touch flutters and I feel his pulse slowing through our skin.

"We're better this way." He says in my ear. "Don't you think?"

This man, here in this moment, makes me feel every scar as if it's a fresh wound, festering and raw. Maybe it's not so bad, but I wouldn't know, I've never had something to compare it to, a standard, I doubt I ever will.

* * *

The blackness is a living thing that whispers in my ear as it strokes my arms and brushes over my hair. It tries to wrap itself around my body, tries to drag me down and consume me, bury me. Swallow me.

They slide their lips over my skin, whispering whispering whispering.

I wake up gasping, my fingers clutching at the sheets and blood roaring in my ears. It takes me a moment to calm the pounding of my heart and even longer to realize that I had fallen asleep, and that I am alone.

The memory of fingers grabbing me in the dream cause me to rub my hands over my body to erase the sensation. The wisps still crowd around my head and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to force the images and voices away but the dark closes in on me, suffocating my mind. My breath comes out shaking.

Kicking back the covers and throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I stand up too fast and specks of light swim in my vision as I stumble over my own feet, catching myself against the wall.

My fingers tremble as I press them to my lips. Nausea inside me grows too full, the blackness spinning around me faster and faster. My stomach heaves and I swallow, pressing my palm harder against my mouth, as I struggle to breathe through my nose.

At the toilet with no recollection of arriving there, I retch, my back arching as I heave, my mouth filling with hot saliva that starts to choke me. I gasp for air.

It's hard for me to breathe, my chest tight. I ache. So badly I ache.

I slip along the wall, falling to the ground as the world tilts and sways and I don't know what's up and what's down. My head screams, my skull too small to hold it all in. I close my eyes and will my heart to stop beating and my blood to stop pumping. I shove my fingers through my hair, pulling against my scalp, drawing my head to my knees brought up close to my chest as I curl into myself.

My mind whirls, thoughts tearing through my head too fast to understand. Flashes, flaying open every dark corner of my subconscious. I reach for the towel hanging on the rack and pull myself up, my body trembling violently and my breaths shaking through my lips as I fumble through the inky darkness and find the shower, slipping as I turn the handle to release the spray of water.

I land on my arm hard on the tiles inside where I curl into myself again under the icy torrent.

* * *

When I leave the bathroom, drying my hair with a towel Eric is just coming into the apartment. "You're awake, good, you need to get dressed. It's 30 after 5." He says as he crosses the room briskly.

A small smile flickers over his lips. It's lopsided, one side of his mouth ticking higher than the other and his eyes bright. He looks younger, his hair is not smoothed down by enormous amounts of gel and the appearance of his curls stalls me. I find myself about to tell him to cut it. I bite my tongue.

He places a cup of coffee and a plate of biscuits he has on the table between us before reaching me and immediately his fingers tangle in my wet hair as he tilts my head up and captures my mouth with his. Forceful and fast.

"Sleep well?" He asks holding my face between his palms. He examines the deep blue beneath my eyelids and I watch the corner of his mouth turn up in a smile.

"Exceedingly." I reply though I suspect he knows better, and my hand reaches to touch the curls in his hair, though _I_ know better.

* * *

"You could go a little faster." Max tells Eric, his voice thick with impatience. "I'd like to be back at Dauntless before deserts. . .Speaking of which, have you eaten yet Gene?"

I nod though I haven't. Inside I feel empty. I can't even remember the last time I ate. I remind myself that once back at Dauntless I should check on Jackie, had she eaten yet? She had not eaten the time before.

"She's been sick." Eric says, waving a hand. "Doesn't hold much down, let alone try." He had brought the biscuits for me in an attempt to get me to eat but I could not stomach it. He was not pleased.

"Have Garrett check for a blood infection." Falen tells me, I nod again. "Have you been using the pain medication? It can sometimes effect your appetite, liquid foods and vitamin supplements might be a better alt—"

"Alright, alright, old man, I'll feed her some baby food." Eric breathes annoyance and Max laughs. "Do you like mushed peas and carrots Genie?"

I tap my fingers against my leg with agitation and stare out the window, my brows furrowed unintentionally as I think about my dream, about the whispers. The fear laced murmurs, hushed around me, blending with the vibration and hum of the truck. I can hear them, but I can't understand them.

* * *

My finger presses the red colored tack further into the board through the map of the city, until it sinks all the way in. Leaving only the circular red cap, a bump, a dot over the smooth grid paper. The map of Chicago is littered with these pins, their metallic shafts glistening in the fluorescent Erudite lighting.

Red mark each faction-less safe-house whose population is estimated greater than allowed and the blue pins mark Dauntless patrols.

I trace a path from the Chicago river to the buildings where I ran into Paul's patrol, my finger pushes their blue pin in, and then I move to the open area, unmarked by any pins where I know Kirk and Evelyn's band of faction-less are hidden.

When I turn to Eric he stares at the black horizon through the glass windowed wall, the snow falling in light drifts just outside. The last snowfall before winter is over.

I watch his throat tighten, his jaw clenched. He reaches a hand up to his head, his fingers brushing against his closely shaved scalp before curling around the back of his neck as if he's deep in thought. Or possibly lost in it. I recognize the movement to be one Amar does.

"Genesis?" I turn at the sound of my name and see Garrett standing at the doors, hovering hesitantly, unsure whether to enter or not. "We are ready for you in the—"

"She'll be there in a minute." Eric answers without inflection. Garrett looks to me and then past me at him before nodding and leaving.

Behind me I hear Eric approaching. I know the sound of his movements and I can tell his mood has darkened because Falen has grown even further out of his reach.

He grabs my arm and turns me around. "Did you know about this?" He asks, thrusting me back against the map.

I feel the flat pins being pushed into the board by my body and I sigh tiredly before answering. "No."

This must be Falen's cover, among many he could assume. Their way to have Dauntless purge faction-less of the lawless, scavengers that Kirk claims threaten them. It would get rid of the ones _against_ Kirk and force the rest, the ones that can't fend for themselves, the ones driven off by Dauntless, to _join_ them.

 _Doesn't look like much **yet** , does it?_

I stare into his eyes waiting to see if he believes me but his narrow and he grips my throat, leaning in close, his body almost crushing mine, pressing me hard into the board, his leg pressed against the outside of my thigh.

My throat begins to burn as a minute goes by without air.

"Here's the thing I can't get." He says, drumming the fingers of his other hand against the map. "If Falen were working with the faction-less, sneaking Divergent within their borders, giving them Dauntless arms. . .Why would he want to _destroy_ them?"

His mouth hovers over mine as his fingers loosen on my neck so that I'm forced to suck in huge lungfuls of air. I choke and cough as my body tries to adjust to the sudden release of pressure and he smiles.

"I'll figure it out, and anyway this should be fun." He says with a shrug, he reaches behind me and grabs my wrist at the same time. "I will give you this one last warning though, Genie." He presses a pin into my palm, the metal point poking through my skin, he presses it, sinking in till it is embedded fully. "You can fool everyone, even Jeanine but never _me_."

He smiles against my mouth, his tongue flicking my bottom lip and then he steps away from me, his grin wide as he walks backwards to the door. "I'll see you after your appointment." With that he turns and disappears through the doors.

I open my fist and sigh at the _blue_ colored pin, using my nails to pull it out.

* * *

I cannot see Garrett's face, with my head tilted forward but I hear the pause in his hands as his utensils stop their work for the briefest of moments. A halt in the tug of strings on my neck. A second where his breath stalls.

"I did what I had to." He says, his voice low and even.

"When?" I ask, my voice heated. "When did you tell Falen about your ' _infatuation_ '?" My shoulders become tense with agitation. I wave his hands away and raise my head to glare at him. This man of 20, an Erudite, though he could've fooled me.

His expression is steady, unreadable. He takes a long breath and removes his glasses to wipe them on his coat. "To be honest, I didn't have to _tell_ him, but I suppose I admitted it the day you left me a flower."

I scoff and shake my head. To think that he is the reason that Falen must have changed his mind that night when I went after Gordon in faction-less territory, no, every opportunity Falen had to kill me, he had weighed the risk of having Garrett expose him and decided to _let_ me live.

That Garrett delivered me to faction-less and forced them to work with me, and I them. They could not kill me, so they would have me join them.

The enormity of what Garrett's done—his part in this—is overwhelming. "Do you realize what you have done?" The question leaves a bitter taste.

His mouth opens and closes and for a moment he reminds me of a fish tossed out of water, unable to breathe. "I. . ." His gaze lowers, and he places his glasses on the metal cart. "What I have done? What I have done is save your life!"

"Saved my life?! Do you not understand that I could kill you? That I would kill you?" I sound feral and I grab the collar of his coat, crinkling it in a fist as I pull him down to my level, his hands brace themselves on the cot on both sides of me. "You have to understand that I'm not like you and I am not like them. It doesn't matter what you want, it doesn't matter how you _feel_ , it will not change who _I_ am."

His face drains of color, his eyes dazed as if he's just woken up. His mouth opens and closes. "Genesis." he breathes. "Why do you do this to yourself?" His expression becomes a mixture of pity and concern. "You are not this person. . .I know you are not, Falen knows you are not."

I release him, shoving him away.

He doesn't understand that he saved me from Falen before, but now, I am alive because of the possibility that I may replace Garrett himself as Jeanine's right hand, and when that time comes he will die.

They would have _me_ kill him, _because_ of how he feels, just to see if I could do it, knowing that too.

I stare into the side of Garrett's face and can sense his hesitation towards me in the way he holds his body so tight, he must know this. I feel his conflicted emotions heavy in the air between us but also his _resolution_.

"I know you do not return the sentiment." He says, looking out the window, his hands tucked into his pockets, looking exhausted and lonely. "But your answer and your indifference mean nothing to me, just the way I feel and. . .As long as you are alive, I will continue to cooperate with them. It's just that simple."

A sort of silence stretches between us, and I am suddenly uncomfortable, staring at my fingers twist around each other until they turn white, finally I sigh. "You are a fool."

Garrett smiles a little before placing his glasses back onto his nose. "I know. . .Now, let me finish my work."

* * *

"You know of the pain and anguish. Wars, famine, disease. You've seen, we've shown you the way the world used to be, the world outside our walls and beyond our borders. That world has perished. But we are here, we have survived because we do what is necessary, we have our walls, our rules. . ." Jeanine says. "Here everyone is fed. Everyone is warm and safe and cared for. _We_ do that Genesis."

She places a palm against the window, fingers splayed and I see that she is shaking ever so slightly. For a moment in her reflection in the glass I think I see sorrow on her face, in the heaviness of her skin on her skull, the faraway tired look in her eyes.

"It's not an easy life." She says, her voice wavering a bit. "The reasons for our actions are beyond their understanding. We are willing to make sacrifices for the greater good, something none of them will ever understand. Their comfort, their safety. It is what _we_ provide. . .And they all live without ever knowing the horrors that we protect them from."

When she says their, I know whom she is speaking of. I don't say anything because I realize that these are things I used to feel. What I used to believe. These beliefs, were born of a heinous twisted instinct to protect.

But protect against what horrors exactly?

I remember the images they'd show us. Gordon, Emily and I as children. A small person hanging by the neck from a telephone pole. A hole in the ground the size of a house, full of bodies. Crowds of people mowed down by gunfire, cities reduced to ash, nuclear devastation. Blood and bone and death and cruelty, empty faces, soulless eyes, terrified eyes.

The chaos that we believed _Divergent_ could bring, _we_ brought.

My thoughts stray to Charles. His red chafed cheeks and curly hair. How his eyes must have been gray-ish blue, and I imagine how his voice and laugh might have sounded, what kind of pictures he might have colored, what books held his interest. What number he might have been able to count up to.

I draw a sharp breath, startled at the direction of my thoughts. My neck flushes, the heat of it creeping up over my jaw and along my cheeks as my blood boils.

"You enjoy books?" Jeanine asks suddenly, she turns around to face me. Her composure back, her expression betraying nothing of the previous conversation. "Do you own any?"

Her sudden interest and topic change takes me aback, and her eyes examine my face as though she could know my strange thoughts. I try to say yes and no at the same time and instead it just comes out as a unintelligible grunt. "I have several." Though I wouldn't be surprised it she already knows that.

She smiles a little before tapping a nail along the back of her chair and I can tell she has words on the edge of her tongue because she bites her cheek.

"You are. . .Very little like Reidley." Jeanine says, taking a seat at her desk finally. "She never could find wonder in a book, and if she ever owned one, it only held pictures." She chuckles lightly, for a moment her eyes see through me, as if looking back a long distance into herself. I see a ghost of a smile around her eyes. "I have one for you. . .If you would accept it."

I stare at her as she slides a hard covered book across the surface of her desk and I twist my fingers together in front of me until I feel each one pop. What a small thing, An unexpected similarity to the woman I only ever shared blood with.

"Well, I supposed I've taken up enough of your time today, Eric must be waiting." She says sitting back, the creak in her chair more dismissive than when she turns her gaze and hands to her computer.

I stand and take the book, tucking it under my arm before starting for the door.

"Genesis." She calls. I stop. "There is something else. . ."


	24. Birds

She throws her arms wide and he reaches for her, grabbing her around the waist, lifting her in a circle so that her legs kick in the air. I watch as he stumbles under her, losing his balance, and they fall into a thick patch of grass, her landing on top of him with her body pressed against his.

Their laughter is muted to my ears though their faces are alight with it, open smiling mouths, flushed cheeks.

Their eyes shining, but pitch black.

I watch her lean over Graham, orange hair falling over her shoulder, skirting the edges of his jaw. Him reaching up to tuck it behind her ear. His fingers touching her cheek, as she lowers to place her mouth to his.

I can't hear the words he speaks, as they're murmured into her ears, but I can see his lips moving with the grass, curving with the breeze, the clouds above to go by with every open and close of his mouth.

And yet, the world stays silent and hushed. A sound I cannot hear. Would not recognize even.

A cold brushes against my hand, fingertips touch on my back, on my shoulders, curling around my arms. Whispering. Tugging me, backwards. _Away_.

I take a step forward and a twig snaps beneath my boot like a broken bone.

They twist their heads to look at me, their dark eyes widening as a preys does when they realize they are being hunted.

 _I_ am hunting them.

A cacophony is released as the ground around me explodes into birds hidden by the brush, and the darkness envelops me.

It surrounds me, feathers flapping in my ears, wings slide across the back of my neck, beaks pecking at my shoulders, talons clinging to my clothes and tearing at my hair, but they are not attacking.

They're startled. They are scared. They flee.

* * *

I feel warmth in my hand and I turn my head to the side to see Jackie asleep next to me, her fingers tangled in mine, fingertips pressed between my knuckles.

The bandages around her wrist just barely visible at the blankets edge.

I'd not meant to fall asleep, but exhaustion had taken hold sometime in the night.

It's difficult to tell how much time passes as I lie there, staring at the ceiling, trying as I might to spot particles in the air. It feels as though I'd just closed my eyes moments ago.

I count my breaths slow and sure, weaving them into the beat of my heart and the urging of my body to relax.

When I check the time it's barely 3 A.M. I push myself up and carefully slide my hand out of hers, shifting in meticulous movements in attempts to not wake her.

Jackie stirs anyway. "You're up already?" She asks, her voice thick and heavy with sleep. "Leaving?"

"Yeah." I answer but it hangs there as if I mean to say more, an explanation to where I'm going maybe. I know I should to appease her, so I do. "Breakfast."

I rest my hand on the wall of blocks for a brief moment to slide my boots on.

A chill creeps up my arm, down my back, raising the hairs on my body.

"Get me some cake." She grunts out as shes turning over, onto her side with her back towards me.

"Sure." I leave the room, shutting the door with an inaudible click behind me.

My breath rattles in my lungs, and I brush my hand against my pants to wipe the feeling away.

* * *

I have an unobstructed view of the world. The clouds still belching snow while a clear strip of sky on the horizon burns a muted early morning gray.

It's a subdued cold, one so prevalent that it envelops me, slowly leaching the residual body heat from my clothes.

From here I can see the tops of the wall, bare beams that scrape the sky like splintered finger bones. Reaching, forever reaching.

I blur my eyes, trying to visualize how it would look finished, completed. The sky split in two. Cold soulless metal and concrete, severing it into two halves.

I'm pulled from these thoughts when the door from the stairwell creaks opens and a figure moves out into the snow and as if he were expecting me here, he turns in my direction. His hand raised to shield against the falling snow.

It catches in his hair and brows, furrowed over a scowl.

"Did you do this?" Four asks, his voice an angry pitch as he gestures to the billboard on the building adjacent to his apartment.

I pull my gloved hands from my jacket pockets, the paint on them long dried, and I hold them up for him to see.

His gait grows predatory as he comes nearer, his eyes only flicking to them for a second before locking back on mine.

Then, he scoffs and turns indecisively as if he's unsure which direction to stalk off in. Throwing his hands in the air, looking back at me once, then twice, dragging both through his hair and back down his face.

"Tell Evelyn to. . .Fuck off." He finally says. "I'm not interested."

I wait about a minute for effect, unmoving, before saying, "Done." Removing the gloves to drop them on the roof wall.

I'd already anticipated his answer before I snuck the note from her under his door.

She wants to see him. He does not want to see her.

If he wanted to, he would have by now.

"What are you, her messenger now?" He asks, his voice low, his eyes narrowing slightly as he steps closer, using his height over me.

I drop my hand to my hip, in a defensive stance before answering. "Yes."

He squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his fingers to them and takes a step back, instantly deflating. "I don't want anything to do with the faction-less, or. . .Or Evelyn, or even you for that matter. I'd rather you all just left me alone."

"Aright." I tell him before crossing my arms.

It is of no real bother to me. Jeanine and Evelyn can _both_ make do without Four.

It's obvious he doesn't want to be faction-less, and I've not the audacity to ask him to affront the allegations against his father either, which Jeanine had implored me to do.

He stands for a moment longer, casting his gaze to the city and away from me. "It won't end well." He says as he collects my soiled gloves and shoves them into his back pocket. "You shouldn't trust the faction-less, or Evelyn."

"I'm just the messenger." I shrug and turn to stare past the top stories of the tallest beams and to the barren landscape beyond, the specks of snow now clouding my vision.

Instead of thinking about important things, I think then, about _daisies_ , a strange intrusive thought. Stray but holding.

Even if the rest of the world is dead, maybe they've sprouted out there.

In those corners and spaces that men no longer tread.

In those places no one thinks about.

* * *

"Gene?" There's no judgment or malice in Amar's voice when he calls me and I surprise myself by expecting it, maybe because the last time I saw him I had ditched him.

I turn towards him as he jogs up the hall. "Hey, whats up? I lost you the other night."

Before I can even answer he wraps his arms around me and pulls me tight, enveloping me in warmth. He smells of shampoo, sweat and something heavy but pleasant.

"I had things to do. . ." I say as he pulls away and grabs my arms at my shoulders to look me over.

His face, upon likewise inspection, appears drawn and tight, with dark circles underneath but he smiles and the crinkles appear, drawing attention away from his tiredness.

"Let's go do something, we haven't hung out, just the two of us in a long time." He sounds casual, but there's an undercurrent running beneath his words, an emotion I can't pinpoint.

He holds his body rigid as he waits for my response.

"I'm currently. . .Busy." I gesture to the path I was taking to go to the leaders offices without further explanation, it is the truth.

He takes a deep breath, his body shifts and tenses. But he does not argue or insist as he usually would, he reaches out to push a strand of hair from my cheek behind my ear, his fingers brushing along my jaw, coming to rest on my shoulder.

"Maybe later then." He says before backing away from me, his grip sliding slowly from my arm leaving a phantom warmth from his touch.

* * *

"The faction-less are a drain on resources, and our current method for addressing them only enables them, and encourages their scavenging, lawless lifestyle." Falen explains. "Even with the upped patrol and sentries. . ."

I dig my nails into my palms trying to drive my thoughts away from Amar and focus on the discussion, which seems arduous in comparison no matter how hard I try to compartmentalize.

Paul and Candice both threaten to fall asleep, sipping coffee and occasionally blinking rapidly. Neither as attentive.

Eric however has not taken his eyes off me, I feel them burning into my skin. The first and only look I gave him confirmed his irritation with me, his jaw was tense and his knuckles bleached of color, clasped together under his chin with his elbows to his knees.

I'd been avoiding him after Erudite, since yesterday, however I can, with him knowing where I am at all times.

He's not yet confronted me of it but I assume he's still deliberating the reasoning. . .There are only so many reasons a girl would avoid a boy.

I bite the inside of my cheek when I begin to think about them myself.

"The faction-less work for the goods they are provided, nothing is given as hand outs and even that is part of Abnegation's monthly stipend." Marcus Eaton insists, his face grows redder. "We aren't enabling them, we give them the means to survive and help them by giving them purpose."

"Which is why as of now each faction will report how much of their monthly stipend is received, actually used, the excess, their population count and—"

"Dauntless does not have the authority to make such demands!" Marcus cuts Max off, and the tone of his voice is what finally stops me from pacing at the door.

Marcus is right, but it is also surprising for him to raise his voice at a Dauntless, at all even. "What could Dauntless possibly want with that information?"

"The faction-less are a growing problem, Marcus." Falen answers dryly. "To put it bluntly we can't fix shit if you continue to neglect it. The faction-less are a result of an issue within our factions and should be addressed at all angles, which means cooperation and communication from all factions."

"You have Candor's support." Jack Kang speaks up finally, though his tone is imperious. To Candor this is a waste of their time and I can see it in his expression, the only thing he's interested in currently, is Marcus' behavior.

"Our concern at Amity is what you intend to do with faction-less." Johanna says, her frown stretches the scar along the side of her face, pulling her mouth down further, making her expression more displeased and forlorn. "To our understanding there are children among their population."

"The children will be placed under Abnegation's care." I cross my arms over my chest, biting the nail of my thumb between my teeth as Paul drones. "As part of the factions code 7.2, subsection A. All individuals under the age of choosing is considered a dependent and therefore—"

"They will be counted as part of Abnegation's populace, and the stipend will be modified to accommodate the changes." Eric finishes, shortening Paul's expletive greatly, as he runs his fingers along his knuckles, I notice the red irritated skin scraped off his knuckles and though he spoke to everyone his gaze never left me.

I narrow my eyes at him to give him the full effect of my glower and his brow twitches.

He shifts to sit on the edge of his seat as if he'll spring out of it any second.

"That is, unless Abnegation has any objections?" Max asks and that works to break off the silent conflict between us when I turn my attention towards the others.

"Of course not!" Marcus barks before scribbling furiously at his desk. Taking notes, I assume.

Johanna nods slowly, and I notice she is staring at me, curious almost.

Or perhaps she saw my silent exchange with Eric.

"Depending on faction-less response, force may or may not be used." Falen tells her. "The faction-less section of the city or boundaries will be. . . Significantly reduced, Keeping their presence exclusively near Abnegation."

Jack Kang seems to like this, as there will no longer be any faction-less near or around the other factions, namely Candor.

Unless at their own peril.

"Abnegation can continue to perform 'charity', provided that they continue to follow the restrictions and directives that were stipulated in their faction-less procedure." Max adds, putting sarcasm behind his words. "Or at least start to fucking follow them."

Marcus all but scowls as he opens his mouth but Johanna speaks up before he can and his jaw snaps shut.

"Amity consents, with one condition." She says with a sigh, looking away as she shifts in her seat to smooth out her skirt beneath the desk.

I follow her gaze to a small tin with daisies in it. My mouth becomes dry, a breath caught in my throat and I dig my fingers into my ribs.

"And that is?" Max asks disinterestedly, while twirling his pen around and around between his fingers.

Falen begins stacking his paperwork together as though we've already concluded.

Johanna twists her hands together in front of her placing them on her wooden desk before raising her chin. "That the children be distributed evenly between each faction and—"

"Nope." Max shakes his head and I look anywhere but at her. "If you want them, then they can be split, half to Amity and half to Abnegation." He drops the pen to push his chair away from the desk with a loud scrape. "Thank you all for taking time out of your schedules, we'll be notifying you shortly of the arrangements and should we see the need, we'll make adjustments."

I move at the same time as Eric but I placed myself strategically closer to the door and I am out it before he can reach me.

* * *

I'm not sure when I found myself looking for him.

But when I finally find Amar, he stands on the low platform at the edge of the Ferris Wheel staring up at it, tilting his head back.

His eyes are bright paired with a wide almost wistful smile. His chest puffed out with his hands on his hips. Pride.

I stop making my way towards him and just watch, imagining for a short moment that I could look at it the way he does.

As though it were more than a machine and then I find myself recounting times he's looked at me the same way.

My face heats up unexpectedly, making my cheeks and ears burn.

I hesitate and turn away, burying my face in the collar of my coat, just enough to see the entrance of Dauntless in my peripherals in case Eric came barreling through the doors after me.

After a breath, nothing. Another. He doesn't appear.

Something soft hits my thigh, exploding on impact and I look back distractedly, to see Amar hold up his hands as if to say he had nothing to do with it, but I can see that his fingers are red and puckered, wide troughs of snow dug up around his knees and the effort he's using to hold in laughter.

I trot up to him and he dusts his pants off before tucking his hands into his pockets.

"You finally free for the day?" He asks, his voice taking on a forced lightness.

"I am." I answer with a nod, though I am not so sure. I didn't stay for the schedule.

We stand there for a moment. Our gazes wander to everything but the other, and our feet shifting on the ground, hands in our pockets.

It feels awkward again, as if we don't know how to communicate naturally anymore.

"So uh. . .It's been. . .Three years. . .Today." He says before looking to the ground, flinching as he kicks at the snow. "I've rarely had to say it out loud, or even acknowledge how long it's been. I just go from day to day: tomorrow to tomorrow without bundling them all together in heaps to represent weeks and months and years."

Oh.

It unsettles me, when I realize what he's talking about, why he's acting this way, what today is for him.

That I've forgotten it.

Every year on this day, I would spend with Amar. Training, running, sparring. _Distracting_.

"It's just. . ." He hesitates, running his hand through his hair, before clasping the back of his neck. "When people leave us, they don't come back. No matter how much we want them to. . .It doesn't make it any easier when they leave us by _choice_ either, but sometimes we've got to let them go, Gene. We can't—"

"Amar." I reprimand sharply, shaking my head to myself.

Suddenly today, it isn't about him. He's made it about me.

Of course even he would have heard I left to faction-less.

Of course he would come up with his own reasons for why I went.

To find Katherine? To bring her back?

"I don't want to talk about it."

He doesn't understand and I can't ever explain.

"When then Gene?" He paces, becoming frustrated and angry, while I stand clutching my jacket. "Don't you see that there are people that care about you? I was worried sick, and Jackie. . ."

At first I think this is Eric's fault.

I inhale deeply, welcoming the biting cold into my lungs. The taste of the air is sharp-edged and bitter on my tongue.

I know that it is not _completely_ Eric's fault.

He stops pacing and looks at me, holding out a hand and then lets it drop. Emotions war across his face. "Please, talk to me, Gene."

I stare at the way he holds himself as he watches me, his body rigid, face strained.

My frustration at Eric boils over and I wrap my arms tighter around myself, digging into my ribs as if I could keep the agitation inside, force it deeper under my skin.

He pulls me to him, taking my head and pushing it into his shoulder, his arms circling my back.

I weave my arms around him and close my eyes against the twisted feeling, my fingers clutching to him with ferocity as I try to control my breathing.

In the darkness of my mind I can't stop thinking of the outcome.

I'd never thought it before. Even when Eric put it into words.

It is the only thing I can think of now as I struggle with the desire, to bare my scars and dare hope someone to accept them as well, to accept me.

It would take more gall than I possess.

But perhaps it's always been there, this demon in me. This desire for companionship.

A fear?

"We've known each other our entire lives." He says, his breath soft over my hair. "You can tell me anything."

I swallow thickly, feeling my pulse flutter at the possibility of his words but, I don't know how to tell him. I don't even know where to start.

It's even impossible to envision the person he sees, like there is something different under the mask that I've. . .Never taken off.

I don't know how to be the person he thinks he's known all these years, there's just me, there is nothing underneath, no other person, and it makes me. . .Angry.

Irrational rage expounded through me, shooting fast through my veins and I shoved him away, turning around to head back towards Dauntless.

Away from him, from all of this.

Amar calls after me but I don't listen and break into a run. The fury simmers and vibrates, like a hum that I can feel through my bones. He chases after me, and just as I wrench the door open he grabs it, holding it closed so that I can't leave.

"Help me understand what you're going through, Gene. Really, I just can't see why you—"

I spin on him, eyes flashing. "You will never understand, Amar." He reaches for me and I rip my arm from his grasp, my hands curl into fists. His eyes narrow with confusion at my anger and I stutter for a moment.

"I'm not. . ." I fumble for words. "I'm not . . .' _Good_ '." The word leaves a bitter taste.

As if I didn't think, all this time, what I was doing was right. As if all these years I didn't consider myself—

"I'm not like you." I gulp in the frozen air. "I'm. . ."

"Gene." He says with a sad laugh, like I'm a child. "I'm not perfect, and you need to stop thinking that I can't make mistakes either. Good, bad, those are just perspectives. I mean, to a bird a cat would seem bad right? I could never look at you that way. . .You're human. We're both just human. Nothing more. Nothing less."

I ache to believe him. I cross my arms over my chest, trying to force more distance between us before he can.

The inevitability, I can feel it crawling up my throat.

"There have been. . . _Birds_ , Amar."

The hand he has raised to touch me stops and his brow raises in confusion as he goes over the meaning of my words.

He stands dead still for moments, longer maybe, and eternity, and then his hand falls to his side.

Though expected, his actions drain my anger, leaving only a slow enveloping pain behind.

As if all the air were sucked from the world and turned my body inside out for him to see.

The blood, guts and feathered remains in my hollow stomach. This black and shriveled heart, lungs of ice and smoke.

"What?" I intend for the question to come out as a growl but instead it's only a coarse whisper. "Do you need a different analogy?" I choke back the resentment with a scoff. "Perspective?"

"Gene. . ." He stares at me and then shoves a hand in his hair and wraps his long fingers around the back of his neck. I can see in his own face the pain of this reality. "How many? Who?"

"Does it matter?"

"Why?" He asks, sounding almost desperate to understand. I don't hear the horror in his voice, only a deep sadness. "Did they make you do it?"

"Does. It. Matter?" I repeat, my entire body tense with mortification.

Does it matter why I did it? Only that I did.

Does it matter if I was made to do it? Only that I did.

Does it matter who? I might as well have been responsible for them all.

"Yes, it fucking matters Gene!" He looms over me, bringing himself to full height. "Because I feel responsible for you, because I love you, because you're the only family I have left!"

His eyes are wide, his lips parted, face flushed and his hand shakes when he raises it to his neck again.

"And because. . ."

We're both breathing hard as if we'd been physically fighting and I grit my teeth to keep from saying anything more. Furiously I turn around and yank the door open.

"Don't walk away from me Gene!" I stop dead in my tracks and I see the shadow on the wall of him raising his hand but he does not touch me and I do not turn around.

After a breath his hand falls once more and I leave, clutching at the collar of my jacket as it tightens around my neck.

* * *

"Geenie weenie." Gabriel coos as he drums carrots against the edge of the cafeteria bench. "Everyone is getting all riled up." He uses sarcasm as he gestures to the near empty cavern with one of them, twirling it around. "You should talk the leaders into letting us join the faction-less hunt."

"Gabe!" Jackie chastises, bringing her palm across his back. He laughs raucously and jabs at her.

"All dependents and civilians are forbidden to leave the compounds without permission and supervision." I say, resting my cheek in a palm as I stare at the ripples made in my coffee from tapping my fingers along the side. "It is not a hunt."

"Zeke says it's just the leaders way of recruiting more people for patrols on the wall, that most of the squads might not even come across any faction-less." Joseph says as if helping along.

I bite my tongue. My leg bounces under the table, fierce agitation governing my idle actions.

"Well, what about you?" Jackie asks. "Are they making you go too?" They all lean in, interested and I'm not oblivious to the jealousy in Gabriel's expression.

My hand closes around the cup, meticulously fitted not to crush it and spill the hot liquid everywhere.

"No." I reply tersely. Falen, Eric, Paul and Candice will each be leading their own squads in time and Max is to remain in Dauntless. I take a breath. "But. . ." They lean in. "I'm to visit Amity tomorrow, and Candor sometime. Possibly Abnegation as well."

"What?!" Gabriel sputters, throwing his hands into the air. "Dude, Gene, please please, you have to get me some of that Amity bread! I will do anything."

"And some ice cream from Candor!" Jackie exclaims, she clutches my arm and shakes me, my body becoming stiff as a board at her touch.

They all begin to plead incessantly for these faction specific specialties.

"Alright." I finally relent, gritting my teeth and gently removing Jackie's hand from my arm. "I'll see what I can do."

They begin cheering and creating a ruckus, pounding the table top and that is when I notice Amar enter the cafeteria.

Our eyes meet and the sound around me becomes muffled as a single moment passes. It feels as though minutes go by, but compressed into a second before he tears his gaze away, casting it downward as he leaves.

I cannot deny the acidic taste that rises up my throat or the fierce desire to stand and go to him. This hollow ache creates a fury that chills me to the core.

I feel the skin of my knuckles pull tight as I clench my fists, and my nails embed themselves into my palms.

"Hey. . .Eric." The name snaps my head around and our eyes lock. Blue on blue.

He acknowledges their greetings with a nod, never taking his gaze off mine as if determining my mood.

Finally he smirks and I resist the urge to scowl. "Have you eaten yet?" He asks to which I tilt my cup at him in response. "Good then you're done here."

He takes my hand in a grip that is too tight pulling me up. I squeeze back, fitting my nails into his skin and down my cup as Gabriel and Uriah make hooting noises, and lewd whistles.

He pulls me down several halls before finally yanking me around him and against the wall. The coldness of the concrete spreads through me at first contact before his heated gaze penetrates mine.

"What did Jeanine want from you?" Eric asks immediately.

"It involves the leader of Abnegation." I reply formally and semi-cooperatively though not disclosing full details of her request.

"Oh?" Eric deliberates, before framing my head with his arms against the wall and leaning in. The action deemed threatening. "What exactly?"

"Acquire evidence of corruption." I answer.

His expression becomes grim and hard in an instant as if beginning calculating, reevaluating and assessing, finding error or an unwanted result.

I turn my head and look down the hall in both directions, realizing it may have been prudent to do so beforehand. The conversation being slightly more sensitive to be spoken of publicly.

"Did you have somewhere else you needed to be?" Eric asks with heavy annoyance.

Maybe it's his implying tone, or maybe it's my lack of patience with him to begin with but I do not answer.

"I'm not like all your other 'friends', I am not like _Amar_." His name is like a slap in the face. "I wasn't there all those years, but I know you better than any and all of them combined." He brings his hand to cup my cheek, his thumb running over my jaw and I turn my head away, forcing myself to stay calm but I can feel the cold needle pricks beneath my skin.

He leans in close, his gaze becomes darker, swirling. His lips brush my earlobe.

"You resent them for it. . ." He says with a sigh, as if I am pitiable. I stay dead still. "You feel it don't you, you can't help it. That makes you neurotic, so you don't eat, you can't sleep. You dissociate yourself from them all, hoping that it'll go away. But does that make it better? Easier? Does that make you _happy_?"

He touches the center of my chest, his palm spreading flat against me, and I close my eyes when I feel each exhale of his breath as his touch flutters up along my hairline, tracing the curve of my ear.

My heart becomes a steady thrum against his hand. I know better than to listen to him, but I hear him loud and clear like they are my own thoughts. Have they not crossed my mind at one point or another?

"With no other heartbeat to keep yours company. . ." A shiver spreads through my veins. "No voice to keep away the blackness of night. . .Nobody to share the length of days with. . ." His whispers are seductive as they roll off his tongue and mix with his breath, my only source of air.

But the others, they are urgent, warning.

"Can you be more lonely than you are now?" He leans closer and frames my face with his hands forcing me to look him in the eyes. Our lips brush against each other, so light, as if I'd merely exhaled.

My answer is but a tired deafeated sigh, and he pushes his mouth into mine, once barely, then again, swiftly, open-mouthed and our tongues touch for one instant. My hand moves to cover his on my cheek as he pulls away but his other hand finds my waist. I open my eyes to meet his downcast.

Eric Then rests his forehead on mine. "You and I, have been brutalized, burdened with loss, responsibility and purpose. It has made us brutal in return." He avoids a straight answer but I never asked the question in return, nor did I really answer.

What hides within Eric's darkness? I know it, roughly; I recognize its shape. But the full dimensions of his pain remain murky, perhaps unfathomable.

"The only real difference between us, is how we accomplish our goals. You, are a bloody thing, whereas I settle for the careful, and quiet accumulation of power."

Intrigued, I ask. "What would you do with it?" As I turn to place my lips against his palm. His pulse thrums beneath his warm skin against my mouth reminding me of my coldness.

"I would make the world a better place." He sounds reprimanding, as if it should already be obvious to me. He leans in closer, his breath hot but turning cold in my lungs.

"How many people would you kill to accomplish that?" More than Falen? More than the Faction-less, Kirk and Evelyn? More than Erudite? More than Jeanine?

"None." Eric says with a shrug and I raise my brow in confusion. "The question is, how many would _you_ kill?"

The question echoes in the confines of my skull and the whispers become wails.

"People will die." I state flatly. "As they always do."

He smiles and places his lips to mine once more


End file.
